


What Happens When We Shatter?

by Jenstar



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Houseki no Kuni, Amnesia, Angst with a Happy Ending, Land of the Lustrous - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:22:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25722790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenstar/pseuds/Jenstar
Summary: Humanity has been wiped out after a fateful meteor crashed into the Earth. All that remains is a small patch of land and the Lustrous: immortal humanoid embodiments of gemstones. They’re led by the Professor and fight to defend themselves against the Lunarians—beings from the moon who appear every few days to harvest the Lustrous’ bodies for weapons and decorations.While the Lustrous are immortal, their memories begin to fade with every lost piece of themselves.Felix and Sylvain are an unstoppable force in the fight against the Lunarians.Until one day, after a disastrous battle, Felix loses both legs. And while the pair survives and his legs are replaced, it comes at a precious price.Felix loses all of his memories of Sylvain.A story about one of the most powerful of his kind whose desperation forces him to crack at the edges.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 35
Kudos: 112
Collections: Sylvix Big Bang





	What Happens When We Shatter?

**Author's Note:**

> [Kelp](https://twitter.com/nokedoke) is responsible for all four of the beautiful illustrations found in the fic. I cannot stress enough how wonderful her input has been throughout the whole process, and I seriously could not have asked for a better partner. Truly lovely. 
> 
> One thousand thank yous to Carson for reading this monster again and again and again over the last few months. I could not have finished this with any sort of polish without you. 
> 
> **CW WARNINGS:**
> 
> Although the characters in the story are not human, which means no depictions of blood or gore or any of that, I feel like I should mention there’s plenty of dismemberment. They’re gemstone beings, they will crack and fracture often. 
> 
> Additionally, there is a scene that involves choking. It starts at “One day as an arrow catches him on the shoulder…” and only lasts for that short paragraph. Tread carefully once you reach that part if choking is a trigger. 
> 
> Otherwise, enjoy!

It’s always easy when it’s the two of them.

Sylvain trails behind Felix and he can’t contain the little laugh that escapes in a breathy exhale as he watches Felix sprint down the open field, kicking up blades of grass that tickle the hardened planes of Sylvain’s face as they flutter through the air.

The sky is incredibly clear today, and the sun hangs heavy and hot right in the middle, illuminating the cobalt edges of Felix’s long ponytail, loose strands shimmering along the angle of his jaw. The glimmer that twinkles off the top of his head—dark, rich azure refracting sunbeams into barely there rainbows—strikes something comforting in Sylvain’s chest. It blooms from the center and travels into his legs and palms, urging him to run faster and grip his lance tighter.

He distantly recalls his conversation with the Professor.

_And you only experience this during combat alongside Felix?_

_It’s all the time, actually. Do you think what happened to Ferdinand is happening to me?_

A coy smile had slowly spread across the Professor’s face.

_No, Sylvain. I think what you’re experiencing is love._

_What’s that?_

_I think it would be best if you learned of the facets of love on your own._

Sylvain could never fathom learning about all the different ways he could love Felix from the small inked letters bunched too close together on stale paper barely held together by a dusty book cover. 

No, Sylvain thinks not even Linhardt could describe the way his chest tightens as he watches dark blue strands whip behind a running figure, nor does he think the other gems could explain the strange tingle in his palms that rings throughout his body with every narrowed goldenrod gaze that collides with his own.

Many of the gems gush about the splendor of diamonds, but Sylvain thinks it’s because they’ve never truly seen the magnificence of tanzanite and amber.

He moves his attention towards the dark splotch of danger spreading across the sky, the edges skittering along the black reflecting a blinding, polychromatic frame—a Lunarian sunspot. Sylvain almost thinks the name is funny since the Lunarians are from the moon.

The sunspot grows and grows until celestial, humanoid bodies emerge from the black. Enveloped in hues of rose gold, the Lunarians announce their arrival like they always do; draped in billowy robes and adorned with lavish jewelry and matching headpieces, all identical to each other with one giant matriarch at the center, hovering over the earth on an insidious cloud. Sylvain counts about twenty of them, all bundled together and ready for battle. A few are tasked with bringing the fanfare as they rattle their tambourines, bang on their drums, and scatter handfuls of cherry blossoms as they settle into a pink sepia cluster in the sky. Some of the petals graze Sylvain’s cheeks as he sprints closer and closer. 

Sylvain wants to believe they’re beautiful, wants to appreciate the graceful grandeur of their existence.

But as the rest of the Lunarians take their positions, with bow strings pulled taut and throwing spears at the ready, Sylvain remembers why he can’t. He remembers why he grips his lance firmly and runs full speed. His gaze moves towards Felix again, and he thinks of the possibility of those drawn arrows being made of tanzanite, of those headpieces made complete by touches of amber—it’s the ugliest image he’s ever imagined.

And so he catches up to Felix—runs side by side with his beloved partner—and prepares for battle.

“Sylvain,” Felix says, unwavering conviction and trust dancing along the syllables. 

“I know, I know. I got you.”

As they run closer to the sunspot, the Lunarians let go of their bowstrings, and a flurry of arrows rains down from the sky. Sylvain isn’t worried though, because once he finishes redirecting many of the arrows with a whirl of his lance, he sees Felix catch several of them on the blade of his katana and fling them back towards the Lunarians. 

“You know, I didn’t even see you unsheath your sword. As fast and impressive as always, I see.”

Felix rolls his eyes. “Can you focus for once?”

“Aw, come on. I’m always focused.”

Felix just shakes his head, and the pair prepares for the next wave of arrows. Another whirl of a lance, another fling of a sword, and soon the rainfall of arrows stops. Felix adjusts his grip on the handle of his katana, and Sylvain notices something is wrong with his left arm.

“Fe—”

“I’m fine,” Felix cuts him off.

Sylvain sighs and gives Felix a pleading look. “If you say so.”

“I promise, Sylvain. Come on, they’re prepping their spears.” And sure enough, the Lunarians switch tactics and begin to throw their spears at the duo. Felix, as fast and agile as always, dodges each spear hurled his way. Sylvain isn’t slow by any means, but his speed doesn’t hold a candle to Felix’s. He makes up for it with his strength, however; and he easily brushes off the spears he can’t dodge with his lance.

More and more spears are thrown and the pair switches to more dynamic counter measures. They leap into the air, Felix achieving a higher vertical than Sylvain, and fend off the spears in the middle of sky while trying to advance on the Lunarians. Sylvain winces each time Felix deflects with his katana, a piercing ringing noise echoing in their ears with each contact, as if a wet finger were tracing the rim of a wine glass. 

Despite the vigor of their midair assault, they can’t seem to close in on the cluster. They fall back to the soft plains of the earth, and Sylvain can see the gears turn in Felix’s head. He watches those brows furrow, watches that perpetual scowl morph into a grimace. Sylvain also watches the grip on his katana loosen with every passing second. Felix catches his gaze, and his expression softens.

“If you’re that worried about my arm, then you know we need to finish this now.”

Sylvain gives him a smile and darts in front of him, increasing the distance between them to give Felix enough space to gather enough momentum. Sylvain stops running when he hears muffled footfalls as Felix runs through the grass. He readies his lance just in time for Felix to leap above him, the heels of his boots finding purchase on the hilt of the lance. Sylvain pushes Felix upward as the latter pushes off himself, leaping higher and higher into the air until he’s level with the matriarch.

Sylvain always commits this part to memory; the way the afternoon sun gleams off each dark blue edge, the way it lights a fire in the center of those narrowed marmalade eyes, and the way Felix slashes through the face of the Lunarian, swift and graceful and beautiful. The cluster dissipates immediately, and Sylvain beams at the way Felix falls back to the earth—with an elegant flip through a shower of dissolving cherry blossom petals. 

Felix lands next to Sylvain and immediately sheaths his sword. Sylvain drops his lance and gently, _gently_ cups Felix’s face. He carefully brushes a thumb across a few chips scattered along Felix’s cheek, tiny midnight crevices peeking through. He wants to give him a more reassuring touch, but if Sylvain is anything but feather light when it comes to Felix, he risks cracking and breaking him. He’s learned from experience.

“Stop fussing,” Felix says, but he doesn’t try to wriggle out of Sylvain’s hand. In fact, he leans into the touch and closes his eyes, a softness he only reserves for Sylvain. They stay like that for a few moments before Sylvain begrudgingly pulls away.

“I’ve been fussing over you for a thousand years, and I’ll fuss for a thousand more.” He holds out his hand. “Now let me see your arm.”

Felix scoffs before relenting, outstretching his left arm so Sylvain can gingerly take it into his hands; he doesn’t have to apply too much pressure to know Felix’s arm is fairly damaged beneath his long glove.

“Do you always have to be so reckless with your sword?” Sylvain asks as he tugs at the fabric on each of Felix’s fingers. “And why do you wear gloves like these? I know we all have to wear some variation of the uniform, but these always seem so annoying to put on.”

Felix huffs out an impatient sigh. “First of all, you’re the last gem on this planet who gets to call me reckless. Secondly, not all of us are diamond class with a hardness of ten. The gloves help keep me together when I’m—”

“Being reckless?”

Felix’s face contorts into a scowl, but Sylvain doesn’t miss the pleading twinkle that glints through his eyes. 

“Fine. Reckless, but we got the job done, and now we can go home.” 

Sylvain carefully removes the glove, and Felix’s cracked arm is exposed under the sunlight. The glows casts an iridescent sheen over the fractured surface, long lines of midnight blue speckled with burning flecks of sunrise. 

“Fe, you really could have lost your arm this time.”

Felix just frowns and takes his arm back, fiddling with the glove before slipping his hand through. “But I didn’t, so who cares?”

“I care,” Sylvain gingerly takes a strand of dark cobalt that’s come loose from Felix’s bun and tucks it behind his ear. “You don’t have to hit so hard every time, I’m here to back you up. You know that, right?”

Felix briefly looks away before bringing his attention back up to Sylvain. “I know that. I just...if I have to suffer through some cracks in my arm and some chips on my face to prevent losing a piece of you, then I’ll hit hard every time.” Felix looks at the ground, and although gems can’t blush, Sylvain has read enough about the phenomenon to know Felix’s cheeks would be dusted champagne pink right about now, and Sylvain just feels warm, warm, _warm._

“Hey, come on now! You know a couple of arrows and spears aren’t enough to break me down. I’m—”

“You’re red diamond, yeah,” Felix dismisses with a wave of his hand. Sylvain carefully grabs it and laces their fingers together.

“I’m not _entirely_ red diamond, you know.”

Felix looks up again and stares right into Sylvain’s eyes, fiery amber crashing into the coolness of andalusite, all molten brown with the faintest glimmer of medallion. 

“Yeah, I know. That’s my favorite part about you,” and before Sylvain can process the weight of those words, Felix slowly tugs at his hand. “Come on, let’s go home. I’d rather not have a large crack down the side of my arm any longer than I need to.”

“And whose fault is that?” That earns Sylvain another eyeroll, but Felix doesn’t let go of his hand as they pick up their weapons and walk through the High Fields. Sylvain finally notices how windy the day is as a gust of air billows around them, and he decides he quite likes the way the uprooted blades of grass clash against the canvas of the sky, vivid green flitting through a bright blue heaven. 

“Hey Fe, after Mercedes or Linhardt fixes your arm, wanna go down to the Beach? A day like this means some pretty nice waves.”

“I was thinking of training right after.”

Sylvain frowns at the answer and pulls Felix a little closer to him. “Don’t you think you deserve a break after today? You can train tomorrow. Besides, I still have yet to beat you in an underwater race.”

Felix smirks at that. “It’s been over a thousand years and you’ve never been able to beat me.”

“See,” Sylvain laughs, “having a hardness of six has its perks! You can move through the water easier.”

Felix stops dead in his tracks, and Sylvain almost yanks his arm off. The difference in hardness has never really been a sore spot for Felix, even when Sylvain accidentally cracks him with a too-hard touch. So Sylvain is a little surprised at the dark furrowed brows and heavy frown.

“Felix, I didn’t mean—”

“Do you remember the promise we made all those centuries ago?” Sylvain sighs at the question, understanding finally dawning on him as he gently tilts Felix’s chin upwards, forcing his partner to stare into his favorite part.

“How could I forget? Neither of us have been captured or broken into dust without the other, so I think we’re keeping both ends of our promise pretty well.” 

Felix just stares before his brows unfurrow and he’s just frowning. Sylvain really hates the look in his eyes.

“That’s why I have to keep training nonstop, Sylvain. I have a lot to make up for, and if I lose any piece of you knowing I could have been stronger, I don’t think I’d be able to exist with that knowledge”

“And you say I’m dramatic.” Sylvain gives Felix a small smile and his chest absolutely burns at the way Felix’s expression softens. “I’m not going anywhere, we’re partners after all. I also don’t wanna face your wrath if I do break our promise, so better safe than sorry.” Felix lets out a small huff of a laugh, and Sylvain feels like he’s won a thousand wars.

Felix moves his chin away from Sylvain’s hand and tugs him along towards their school, but not before rewarding him with a tender smile. “Fine, we can swim, but we have to get going so I can get my arm fixed in time. You know the Professor doesn’t like it when we’re out after dark.”

“Then we’d better get a move on.”

They chat about the potentially large tides they’ll encounter at the shoreline, the ebb and flow of the waves as they try to push through them. It’s Felix’s favorite thing to do, and he always disguises his delight with mentions of how pushing through the relentless surging of the ocean would strengthen him. Sylvain prefers to sit at the bottom of the sea next to Felix, staring at the surface as the sunrays gleam up above. It’s a different kind of iridescence, he thinks every time he looks up; it’s dynamic and circular in a way the gems are not, the daylight fluxing through the ripples of the waves, all round and bulbous. Still, as gorgeous as the spectacle always is, nothing could ever compare to the way the waves cast soft shadows onto the indigo edges of Felix.

Sylvain picks up his pace, eager to get Felix all fixed up and into the water. Felix simply laughs as their walk turns into a run, and Sylvain thinks— _knows_ —he could live happily like this forever, laced fingers swinging with delight under the watchful eye of the sun.

Their run slows to a jog and then into a full halt when a polychromatic speckle of darkness rips through the sky. Felix quickly lets go of Sylvain’s hand to unsheathe his sword. Sylvain just stands there and stares as the sunspot grows and grows until the Lunarians emerge all rose gold and loud and dangerous. 

“Sylvain, get your lance ready.”

“Fe, they’re not supposed to appear more than once a day.”

“That obviously doesn’t matter right now!” Felix grabs the hilt of Sylvain’s lance with his good arm and shoves it into his chest. “We’ll just have to take care of them like we always do.”

“But your arm…” Sylvain barely whispers, but the softness of his worry does nothing to shake the determination staring back at him in a fiery glare. 

“There’s nothing we can do about it. If we’re fast, it won’t even be a factor.” Felix tightens his grip on his katana.

“But what if it breaks off and—”

“Then I’ll use my other arm, dammit!” Felix levels his gaze with Sylvain’s, forcing him to center himself around the sturdiness of amber. “Sylvain, what are we supposed to do? Run away? Don’t tell me you’d risk the safety of the entire School for my arm.”

Sylvain loves Felix more than anything; more than the sun that hangs in the sky, more than the blades of grass that hover in the air after a gentle gust of wind, and even more than the way the afternoon glow reflects off the surface of the sea. 

But Felix’s words weigh heavy on his shoulders, ring loud in his ears. As much as he holds Felix dear, he knows he cares deeply for the other gems as well.

And so of course he doesn’t run away. 

“I got you, Felix,” he responds. 

Felix gives him a reassuring nod before they start sprinting towards the cluster. These Lunarians are noticeably faster, a rainfall of arrows already piercing through the air. Sylvain tries to deflect as many arrows as he can away from Felix, but he still has to catch several bundles on the blade of his sword. The fracture in Felix’s arm sings through the air, and Sylvain wonders if the sound alone will finally cause him to break.

“Sylvain,” Felix is panting, the grip on his katana loosening with each passing second, “I’m ending this now. Cover me.”

As much as Sylvain wants to hesitate, he knows he can’t.

“Always.”

Sylvain runs as fast as he can to keep pace with Felix. Another wave of arrows is thrown their way, and Sylvain does his best to divert them out of Felix’s space, but his best is not enough. Arrows smack into the katana’s blade, and as Felix gives one final swing, the ringing reverberating through the cracks of Felix’s arm finally stops as the limb along with his sword hurtles towards the Lunarians. 

“Sylvain!”

Sylvain doesn’t have time to fuss, doesn’t have time to focus on the arm glittering in the air as it falls back to earth. All he can do is ready his lance and wait for those footfalls to close the distance before heels are dug into the hilt of his lance and he catapults Felix into the heavens. 

As Felix flies closer and closer to the matriarch, he catches the katana still whirling in the air with his right hand and slashes through the Lunarian’s face, as swift and as clean and as deadly as always. 

Except the Lunarians don’t dissipate this time, and Sylvain watches in horror as the matriarch’s face just slides off to reveal several large holes with glistening arrows sticking out from their depths. 

Sylvain barely sighs in relief when Felix lands next to him, but his eyes don’t move from the tips of those new arrows refracting the light from the sun in bright yellow hues—golden beryl.

“Ingrid,” he breathes.

Felix allows himself a moment of grief and disbelief before turning his attention to Sylvain. “Hey, that just means we have the chance to take back every piece.” Felix’s left arm lies almost forgotten a few feet away from them. 

Sylvain just nods before the Lunarians release their bow strings, and soon the duo is deflecting and dodging the pointed golden edges of an old friend.

An arrow catches Sylvain in the shoulder. He grimaces as a large chunk of himself shatters in tandem with it. While normal arrows would barely scratch his diamond surface, Ingrid had a hardness of eight, and with enough force (as demonstrated from the occasional not-so-playful elbow nudge she’d give him), it was enough to break him. He winces at the old memory and the diamond piece as red as carmine glimmering in the grass. 

They stay on the defensive for what feels like lifetimes, Felix carefully dodging every attack while Sylvain slowly chips away, when suddenly the Lunarian assault stops.

The duo cautiously takes the chance to regroup; it’s clear their current strategy is failing quickly. 

“Fe, you’re short an entire arm, and I’m losing too many pieces to properly swing my lance. What are you thinking?” Sylvain tries not to let desperation punctuate his question.

Felix moves in front of Sylvain and stares right into eyes, amber crashing into andalusite once again. It grounds Sylvains, eases some of the panic welling in his ears. 

“I think—” Felix starts, but his gaze flits past Sylvain’s ear and widens in despair, and before Sylvain can ask what’s wrong, Felix shoves him hard enough he hits the grass, and a sound more devastating than the prior ringing echoes throughout Sylvain’s body. 

For some of the gems, the sound of jars and vases splattering onto the ground is enough to cause them immense distress. Sylvain has always thought their reactions made sense, but he never quite _understood_ until now. Now as pieces of tanzanite sprinkle onto the planes of Sylvain’s devastated expression, he absolutely understands. The sound of Felix’s torso shattering into hundreds of pieces is a sound Sylvain will hear for the rest of his life.

Sylvain registers too many things at once; the second Lunarian cluster that somehow managed to manifest behind them, the first cluster now notching their Ingrid-pointed arrows, and the sparkling spear responsible for Sylvain’s full-fledged panic. It’s glittering not unlike the pieces of red diamond littering the floor and the tanzanite falling through the air thanks to the pointed, blue topaz head—Caspar.

It’s too much, it’s all too much, and before Sylvain can utter a single word, move a single finger, another spear impales Felix in the leg, and an arrow shatters the other.

 _“Sylvain,”_ Felix whispers as all of his parts slowly flutter to the grass, _“run.”_ Another spear flies through the air and shatters right through the center of Felix’s face.

Sylvain’s grip on his lance is a vice.

_“Felix!”_

Several Lunarians descend to the earth to collect the pieces, and Sylvain immediately goes on the offensive.

“Don’t you touch him!” He lunges forward at the incoming Lunarians, but there are still a few clustered in the sky, and another flurry of golden arrows and blue spears hail from the tainted heavens and clash into his legs, his shoulders, his torso, and soon Sylvain is on the ground, crawling towards the celestial beings gathering up Felix’s legs.

“Give him back,” he begs, using what’s left of his forearms to drag himself closer to what remains of Felix. “Give him back! Please!”

The Lunarians don’t even spare him a glance as they jump up to return to their cluster, Felix’s legs in their arms. Sylvain can’t help the whimper that escapes before he continues to plead with them.

“Please, just take me instead. Please, please, _please._ ” But the cluster disappears from the sky, and all that remains are the splintered pieces of Felix’s upper body.

The second set of Lunarians begin to collect the rest and even start to work on the fractured pieces of sparkling crimson scattered about.

Sylvain wonders if this is what it means to feel hollow, if it’s supposed to feel like all the comforting warmth that’s been blooming in his chest is now seeping out of every broken limb. He doesn’t get to think about it too long, though, because soon he can hear the muffled footfalls of several pairs of feet, and before an arrow collides with the side of his head, Sylvain see’s a very different, but very familiar blur of yellow and blue.

***

Sylvain wakes to a steady _clinking_ noise and a soft humming of a song he finds familiar. The lyrics return to him in a haze; something about cleaning the Library and swamp beasties. For a moment, Sylvain isn’t sure why such charming, nonsensical words ring a bell, but then it finally clicks; they’re Annette’s songs, and he knows this because Felix likes to quietly listen to them from afar and mutter the lyrics while they train.

Felix.

_Felix._

Sylvain sits upright so quickly he almost smashes his face into the head of another gem. He takes a second to allow his vision to adjust; he’s on a wooden table next to an open archway revealing a splendid view of the open sea. His gaze slowly moves around and finds purchase on the large shelves housing jars of all shapes and sizes and colors. He notices the archways repeating one after the other, allowing the glow of the moon to cast its silver luminosity on the walls of the School. When Sylvain realizes where he is, he turns his attention back to the gem hunched over his hips, smoothing out the last crack settled into his side. He’s met with a lovely display of moonlight dancing on pale, tawny edges framing a warm and determined face along with a pair of blue eyes.

Light smokey quartz and sapphire—Mercedes.

“Mercie…”

“Good evening, sleeping beauty,” she teases with a homey smile and a high, tender voice. “While I’m glad to see you awake, I’m afraid I haven’t double checked my work. So please lie back down, I promise I’m almost done.” She lightly shoves at Sylvain’s shoulders, who knows better than to ever argue with her. He lies back down, and Mercedes brushes a strand of bright vermillion out of his eyes.

“Hey, where’s Fe—”

“He’s currently in Linhardt’s care.” Mercedes gestures to Sylvain’s left and he turns his head to watch Linhardt work furiously over Felix. It’s a strange thing to witness Linhardt of all beings work so hard, but Sylvain feels grateful at the way Linhardt’s brows knit above his eyes made of matte kyanite with a long, glistening curtain of emerald draped over his shoulder. Sylvain lets out a hefty sigh of relief when he registers Felix’s face, his arms, his torso, all put back together again, tanzanite threads hanging wispy over peacefully closed amber.

He begins to feel the warmth return in his chest, but it stutters as Sylvain notices Felix’s legs. They’re different, very different. There’s something black refracting rainbow prisms and spiraling around the paleness of his legs. Linhardt is giving extra attention to where the black meets the white, chipping and reshaping until he gets it just right. Something in Sylvain’s core shifts into something cold, but he clenches his fists in an attempt to wash it away.

“What happened?” Sylvain doesn’t mean for his voice to shake, isn’t used to sounding as honest as he feels, but after watching Linhardt _clink_ and _clank_ over a pair of legs he doesn’t recognize on Felix’s body, he finds he doesn’t care all that much. “Last thing I remember is the two of us getting ambushed by two Lunarian sunspots and,” he turns towards Mercedes again, who is wearing a very weathered expression, “we lost,” he finishes with a whisper.

Mercedes takes his hand in hers and gently rubs her fingers in his palm. “I wasn’t there when the Professor and our friends found you, but,” her voice trails off and she shuts her eyes. A grimace works its way onto her face and Sylvain hates it, “when they returned you and Felix to Linhardt and myself, the both of you were shattered into so many pieces, for a moment I thought we wouldn’t be able to bring you back.”

“Mercie, I’m sorry—”

“Sylvain, don’t you dare apologize,” she closes her hand around his palm and smiles. “There’s nothing you could have done. Just because you’re diamond class doesn’t mean you’re indestructible. Besides,” she brushes another strand of vermillion away, “they were able to bring back most, if not all your pieces, and I wasn’t going to rest until I saw those big brown eyes of yours open.”

“They’re not supposed to appear more than once a day,” he angrily huffs.

“We were all stunned when we heard you were ambushed by two more clusters. The Professor has instructed us to anticipate this to happen more often. They said the Lunarians are getting impatient.”

”Great.”

The memories rush back in the form of golden beryl arrows and blue topaz spears; Felix pushing Sylvain out of the way, Felix shattering into so, _so_ many pieces, Felix’s legs being taken away.

“Please tell me they were able to get Felix’s legs back.” Sylvain sits upright again, and this time Mercedes doesn’t chide him when he does, instead giving him a hesitant smile.

“I’m sorry, Sylvain. According to the Professor, Dimitri and Marianne weren’t able to reach one of the clusters in time. They were able to stop the second from taking the both of you completely, though.”

“This is all my fault.” Sylvain looks over to Felix again, sound asleep and utterly unaware of how much was taken from him. “I wasn’t paying enough attention.”

“Sylvain,” Mercedes’s voice is soft but incredibly firm, “while the two of you have been impressive for as long as I can remember, nothing could have prepared you for that. I’m sure Felix doesn’t regret saving you. Besides, Linhardt was able to find some spare material compatible with Felix, and you and I both know our stubborn friend will make sure he’ll adapt to those new legs quickly. He’ll be back all prickly and yours in no time.”

Sylvain just lies back down and looks over to Felix again, so serene and beautiful under the silver cascade of the moon. A silence falls over the room, the only sounds coming from the steady _clinking_ and _clanking._ It doesn’t take long for Mercedes to finish with Sylvain, and she asks him to stand up and stretch his limbs to make sure everything has been correctly put back together.

“I’m sorry it took me so long,” she says. “There was just so much of you to reconstruct.”

Sylvain stands and reaches up towards the ceiling with both arms, checking for any missed chips or cracks. Of course, there are none. There’s a reason Mercedes wears a white coat.

“You don’t ever have to apologize to me, Mercedes.” Sylvain gives her a weak smile, and the blue in her eyes sparkles with something familiar and cozy. He loves her almost as much as he loves Felix.

Sylvain strides over to hover over his partner, the warmth in his chest blossoming from his center at the sight of Felix is quickly interrupted by shards of ice as he remembers their almost devastating encounter.

“Stop that,” Linhardt says as he brushes some residual powder off Felix’s legs.

Sylvain raises a brow, “Stop what?”

“Your wallowing. I can practically hear you thinking and it’s terribly distracting.”

“Not to sound super obvious, but Felix and I almost—”

“Yes, yes, you almost got captured.” Linhardt turns to face Sylvain with a pointed glare, who reels back a bit from the intensity of kyanite before Linhardt just sighs. “But you didn’t. So here you are, all put back together standing before your hunk of tanzanite. And while he may have returned in worse shape than you, he will wake up in a few minutes, and the two of you will reunite and laugh at the possibility of ever being separated in the first place.”

Sylvain wonders if he’s ever heard Linhardt sound so strange. There’s a whirlwind of emotions hidden under his tactless words; anger, relief, and remorse. But Sylvain doesn’t think too hard about it, because Felix is expected to wake up soon, and all he can do is smile until his cheeks feel funny.

“Thank you,” Sylvain says quietly, and he watches all of the anger flutter out of Linhardt, relief and remorse the only emotions hanging onto the matte blue edges of his eyes. “You brought him back, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to express how grateful I am.”

Linhardt just narrows his eyes and looks down at Felix’s legs. “Even if you did, I would never be able to understand.”

Before Sylvain can ask Linhadt what he means, the sound of running footsteps echo off the walls of the School, and soon they’re surrounded by a few gems. 

“Oh Sylvain, I’m so glad you’re alright!” A sparkling flash of citrine almost collides with Sylvain before a large cairngorm hand stops Annette from shattering.

“Please be more careful,” Dedue says before freeing Annette so she can give Sylvain a careful hug. “He’s just recovered, and it wouldn’t be wise to undo all of Mercedes’s hard work.” He runs his hand through the top of his head, a field of translucent goshenite, and Sylvain can’t help but laugh at his concern. 

Sylvain gently wraps his arms around Annette and smiles when she looks up at him with an endless sea of blue apatite.

“To be fair,” Dimitri interrupts, all glittering yellow diamond with a touch of hemimorphite in one eye and a kiss of pearl in the other, “we were all quite worried about you, Sylvain. I’m sure we’d all love nothing more than to run into your arms without the risk of breaking. Although, I think I would be okay if I were to give it a try—”

“We get it, you’re diamond class too. Who cares?” Annette huffs. “Can’t we just talk about how lucky we are that Sylvain and Felix are okay?”

“I gotta say, having you guys showering me in love and concern is doing a lot of things to my ego.” Annette sticks her tongue at Sylvain’s while Dimtri and Dedue simply smile. Mercedes wanders over and takes Annette’s hand, lacing their fingers together, and Sylvain is overwhelmed at the prospect of Felix waking up soon. 

“Don’t worry, your ego will be tempered soon enough.” Mercedes adds, and the rest of the gems gather around Felix much to the dismay of Linhardt.

“Could the lot of you give me some space? I presume Felix won’t appreciate being crowded when he wakes either.” Linhardt nudges them all a few feet away before he places the final touches on Felix’s legs. 

Only a few seconds pass before Felix finally stirs, but each one feels like another thousand years to Sylvain. Eyes flutter open to reveal fiery amber, and Felix slowly sits upright before taking in his surroundings. 

It’s not long before Annette hastily steps forward and wraps her arms around Felix.

“Felix! You’re really evil for scaring me like that!”

Felix awkwardly pats Annette on the shoulder and looks towards the rest of them, a confused, furrowed expression falling on his face.

“What happened?” The soft tenor of Felix’s voice sings in Sylain’s chest now that he’s able to hear it again. The former looks down at his legs and his brows knit even tighter. “What...what’s this?”

“You were attacked by two Lunarian clusters at the same time,” Dimitri answers, “and while Marianne and I were able to stop one of them, the other group succeeded in taking your legs.”

“So what are my legs made of now?”

“Agate.” Linhardt traces a finger along the peak of his knee. “Hubert found several chunks along the Beach a few days ago, but none were compatible with Ferdinand. They’re heavier than tanzanite and have a hardness of seven, so I suggest plenty of training before returning to the High Fields so you don’t crack yourself when you land one of your ridiculous flips.”

“Lin, I don’t think you have to worry about Felix skipping out on training any time soon.” Felix fixates on Sylvain when he speaks, all narrowed uncertainty.

“Anyways,” Sylvain continues, walking over to Felix to brush a strand of dark azure away from his face. He feels a tingle radiate from the tip of his finger to the tips of his toes, warmth coalescing into complete affection and adoration as relief envelopes every facet of his body. Felix is okay, he’s awake and he’s blinking and he’s talking and he’s okay. “I’m glad you’ve finally come back to me.”

Felix jerks his head away and snatches Sylvain’s wrist. Sylvain almost falters at the way anger and caution so easily spreads on Felix’s face, a reaction he could never be ready for.

“Who are you?”

Sylvain can feel every pair of eyes shift towards him and drill into his core. He tries to tug his wrist away, but Felix only holds on tighter.

“Felix, that’s not funn—”

“Felix,” Linhardt starts before Sylvain can lose his mind, “who am I?”

“Linhardt.” 

“Excellent,” Linhardt gestures behind him, “and the yellow giant along with his friend?”

“Dimitri and Dedue.”

“Well done, and the spritely sparkle of orange along with the other doctor in the School?”

“Annette and Mercedes,” Felix lets go of Sylvain’s wrist and throws his hands up in frustration, “What does me knowing the name of my friends have to do with anythi—”

“And the red diamond in front of you.” Linhardt continues. “What is his name?”

Felix scowls. “Why would I know his name? I’ve never seen him before.” Felix levels a glare at Sylvain. “Were you just born? Probably if you think you can go around touching others without permission.”

“Oh my,” Mercedes whispers.

“Fe,” Sylvain says as firmly as possible, panic hovering over the worn nickname. “It’s me, Sylvain.”

“Can you stop acting like I’m supposed to know that?” Felix crosses his arms and looks down at his legs dangling over the table.

“Felix, come on.” Sylvain’s voice shakes and he hates the way he sounds, but not as much as he hates the level of distrust that weighs down Felix’s words, “I’m your partner. We’ve been partners for over a millenia. We lost that last fight together.”

“Impossible,” Felix half-shouts, “I think I would remember having a partner for as long as a damn millenia.” He shakes his head and glares at Sylvain, who thinks he may crumble simply from the intensity. “After Ingrid, I decided to work alone. I don’t have a partner right now, and even if I did, I wouldn’t have a liar as a partner.”

“Felix, please.” Sylvain reaches for Felix’s hand, only for his former partner to fling out the heel of his foot to stop him in his tracks. “You have to remember. It’s me, Sylvain. We run along the High Fields together and swim in the ocean during our down time. You like when it rains because the waves are harder to swim through, and you secretly like to train when the moon is out and everyone is asleep.”

“How do you know that?” Felix is shouting now, and the crowd of gems just stares as Sylvain’s mouth opens in disbelief. “Have you been spying on me?”

“Please, just _remember,_ ” Sylvain begs.

“But I don’t know you!”

“But you do know him.” Mercedes’s voice, soft and gentle and kind, forces Felix’s eyes to widen in shock, “Sylvain is telling the truth. He’s your partner, has been for the last thousand years.”

“That’s...not true.”

“I’ll go fetch the Professor.” Dimitri quickly leaves the room, and Dedue follows close behind.

“It is true!” Annette takes both of Felix’s hands in hers. “You and Sylvain are inseparable!”

“There’s no way!” Felix carefully removes his hands from Annette’s grasp and grips the edge of the table. He looks at Sylvain again, frightened marigold clashing with desperate carob. “How could I just forget something like that?”

“Well, our memories are tied to our bodies, and you did lose both of your legs.” Linhardt taps Felix’s knee.

“So you’re saying because I lost my legs, I lost all my memories of whoever Sylvain is?”

Linhardt’s gaze is as still as stone, “Yes.”

Sylvain can’t listen to this, can’t listen to the grim reality of it all as desperation begins to claw its way out his eyes, his ears, his nose, his mouth. He reaches for Felix again, reaches to gingerly cup his cheek like he’s done a thousand times over a thousand years. 

“Fe, please tell me there’s _something_ you can remember.”

Felix dodges Sylvain’s hand again and angrily shoves him away. Sylvain winces as a crack runs along the length of Felix’s arm.

“Stop trying to touch me! I don’t know you. I refuse to believe I lost so many memories. There’s just no way!” Felix jumps off the table, but when his new agate legs make contact with the stone floor, the difference in hardness between his legs and the rest of his body results in a large fracture running down the middle of his torso and the center of his face. He splits in two, and Sylvain barely catches the pieces before they fall to the ground.

“Ugh, I told him to be careful with his legs.” Linhardt takes the tanzanite out of Sylvain’s hands, who is stunned and speechless, unable to process the frigid cold filling in every crevice of his body. “I’ll have to put him back together _again._ ” Linhardt gives Sylvain a plain look. “I think it would be best if you weren’t here when he wakes again.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Sylvain is seething, clenched fists twinkling in the moonlight.

“Sylvain.” Mercedes wraps her hand around his forearm and he relaxes. “Linhardt is right. I think the Professor may be able to calm him down when he regains consciousness. He’ll remember this all happened.”

Sylvain just stares, incredulous. He carefully takes his forearm back and slowly walks out of the infirmary. He slams the door behind him and immediately falls to his knees. He just looks at the wall ahead of him, just stares and stares and stares until he finally brings his hands to his face and tries to claw at the hardened planes.

He’s read about crying before, it was in the same book he read about blushing. A wet release of emotions ranging from overwhelming sadness to bubbling joy. It’s supposed to be something cathartic, and although he knows gems are unable to cry, the despair weaving in out of every red prism of his being becomes too heavy, and he supposes he should at least try. 

Sylvain begins to wail, beings to scream and shout and yell until his voice reverberates off the corners of the halls, until he’s finally collapsed onto the ground, until the moon hangs in the center of the sky and he’s finally retrieved by caring hands and a long, shimmering wave of brown diamond. He looks up to see Dorothea, melancholic jade pleading with him to get off the floor. Sylvain only acquiesces to avoid the pitiful stares from Dimitri, Dedue, and the Professor. 

***

Sylvain wakes to the sun filtering in through the glass of his window, a ribbon of light as delicate as silk illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. He reaches, reflexively, to his left, hoping to hear the tiniest little clink, but he’s met with frigid sheets instead.

He allows the events of the previous day to flood his senses, to take over all the empty spaces and hollowed crevices. Sylvain and Felix defeating the cluster of the day, running through the fields with laughter in the air and love laced along intertwined fingers. 

And Sylvain and Felix getting ambushed, Felix sacrificing his body for the sake of Sylvain, Felix telling him to run, Sylvain crawling towards the pieces, a flash of Dimitri and Marianne and then, _and then…_

Felix unable to remember Sylvain.

Sylvain sits up on the bed, suddenly feeling uncomfortable and heavy. He stares around his shared room and registers nothing has changed. Not a single thing is out of place, even the pile of old, worn swords leaning against the corner, surely forgotten by their owner by now. Sylvain drags his hands across his face and allows them to sit there, burying himself in his useless grip.

He’s consumed with something cold and dark and _empty,_ so impossibly void and hollow and he can’t help but shake and quiver under the unfair reality of it all.

Sylvain was born in the early morning and was the third diamond class gem to emerge from the coast of the Beach. At first, it was easy to live. There were so many things to learn and unbury, so many friends to make as another and then another was born, the Professor a firm but kind hand guiding them all down an illuminated path with the promise of something fulfilling.

But then the Lunarians appeared in a hail of cherry blossoms, arrowheads, and pointed spears. Suddenly the concept of diamond class meant something, it meant power and tenacity and strength. It meant that Sylvain was born to fight, born to swing a lance and watch celestial bodies dissipate by his edge. 

And while Sylvain would take up his lance and cross the High Fields to protect his friends without a single moment of hesitation, he would be lying if he said he didn’t wish he was born with a hardness of two instead of ten. There’s an expectation that envelopes the diamonds, drapes over them like iron chains to lead by example, to never lose, to sacrifice large portions of themselves to defend the earth. 

He grew tired of it all quickly, of the praises he received for simply existing, replacing the admiration he used to receive for his wit, his charm, his curiosity. Sylvain knew the others meant well, knew they still loved him for being _Sylvain,_ the name he chose for himself after he learned how to read. But suddenly _red diamond_ trumped _Sylvain_ , and he found it harder and harder to be careful with his lance, to be careful with his movements as more and more pointed edges found purchase on the red of his surface.

He didn’t ask for the expectations, didn’t ask for the reverence that came coupled with _diamond_ , and while he was sure his friends would still adore his company whether he was a diamond or grains of sand on the coast, Sylvain could never help the doubt and uncertainty that hovered over his chest.

And then Felix was born, a midnight blue under the midnight moon, the only gem to animate under the blanket of night. He trudged along the Beach on his own, guided by the golden glow of the School until he ran into Linhardt and Caspar. 

He was a wonderful whirlwind from the beginning, never quite able to grapple with his emotions, allowing them to guide the hilt of his sword instead. The weight of the Lunarians was already hanging heavy in the air upon his arrival, and so Felix honed the edge of his body and the edge of his blade, training and training and training to make up for a hardness of six.

Sylvain found it hard to look away as Felix sparred with Dimitri for the first time, the steady gaze of amber and the ferocity of tanzanite defiant in the face of hemimorphite and yellow diamond, back before the pearl, before Ashe, before Marianne. 

Before Felix, diamonds only sparred with diamonds to lessen the chance of unnecessary cracks and breaks, but Felix was different. He didn’t care who his opponent was, he faced each and every one of them with the same amount of prowess and respect, diamond or not.

And so one day, Sylvain found himself willingly walking towards the center of the training grounds with a lance in his grip, approaching Felix with the reverence he earned.

_Spar with me?_

_Hmph, why? I never see you train in here. You just sit there and watch. It’d be a waste of my time._

_Let’s just say a little chunk of night has me feeling inspired._

_I don’t care._

_Hmm, afraid your streak of besting everyone including all of the diamonds would be broken by dazzling ol’ me?_

_Not a chance. Pick up your lance._

Sylvain was old, _is_ old, and has sparred with every gem on the earth including the Professor, but he’d never seen prowess quite as deadly and as beautiful as Felix. It was dance for him, each step and flick of his wrist graceful and precise, blocking and twisting and turning every which way, landing hit after hit on Sylvain, undeterred by the dark blue chips flying out of his shoulders. Sylvain lost, thudding to the ground, his back hitting the dirt and looking up at another gem for the first time in a long time, graced with a smirk refracting blue-violet prisms.

_You gotta be my partner. We’d be unstoppable._

_No._

Ingrid was Felix’s first partner, idealistic and hard-working golden beryl somehow matching well with the stubborn rashness of Felix. Sylvain couldn’t be too upset, Bernadetta already being a wondrous match for him, soft and shy amethyst able to keep his carelessness in check. 

But Ingrid was captured, and soon Felix was alone, unable to see himself as anything but frail and untrustworthy after the loss of his friend. So he trained harder, isolated himself even more until one day Sylvain caught his wrist in a downswing of his blade under the patient eye of the moon.

_What do you think you’re doing?_

_Felix, you need to stop being so hard on yourself._

_Like you know what it’s like to lose a friend the way I did._

_She was my friend, too._

_But you weren’t there! I was there, and I couldn’t save her. I failed. I failed at the Professor's expectations, my own, and worst of all I failed Ingrid._

_I know a thing or two about the weight of expectations._

_Tch, as if._

_Wanna wager?_

And they sparred into the dead of night, Felix winning blow after blow until he didn’t, until Sylvain took it seriously for both of their sakes and knocked him on the ground. His prize was walking along the coast with Felix, describing his disillusionment with existing, his distaste for being diamond class, and how Felix turned all of it on its head.

_Felix, I know what it’s like to be hard on yourself, but you’re worth more than expectations._

_You should take your own advice. You’re pretty smart when you don’t hide behind a mask._

_Aw, I’m taking that as confirmation you actually like having me around._

_Don’t push it._

After a few years without Ingrid, the Professor paired Sylvain and Felix together, leaving Bernadetta to fight alongside Caspar, her final partner. It may have taken a millenia, but the glimmering bond cultivated between a bright flash of red and the sparkle of blue with a swing of a lance and flourish of a katana was a force to be reckoned with, unbreakable with a hardness not even a diamond could achieve.

At least until now.

Sylvain allows a few minutes to tick by before standing abruptly and marching towards the training grounds.

He finds him in the middle of a spar, dodging the heavy swing of Annette’s hammer. Sylvain is always impressed with how such a tiny gem could wield such a massive weapon, but he figures it has everything to do with Annette’s force of will more than it has to do with the strength of citrine.

But his eyes don’t linger on her for long, his gaze steadily finding Felix, who is magic under the filtering sunrays, each facet of tanzanite glimmering dark and defiant with every sharp flick of his blade, midnight holding steadfast to the presence of morning.

Felix manages to dodge the first couple swings, the lightness of his body a tremendous asset against the might and weight of a hammer. But he’s still not quite used to his new legs, and sure enough he stumbles during a sidestep, and Annette is able to land a hit on his shoulder. A little flake of dark azure flies off his surface and lands right in front of Sylvain. He picks it up and traces the faint glimmer of amber running along the inside like golden veins.

“Sorry Felix!” Annette squeaks before helping Felix off the floor.

“Don’t be sorry, I should have known better.” Sylvain can’t help but wince at the small hint of fondness that hovers over Felix’s words. He wonders if it’ll ever be directed at him again. 

“Still, I should have been mindful of your new legs! You’re still getting used to them.”

“Doesn’t mean you should hold back. The Lunarians won’t.” There’s a sharpness to Felix’s truth, it’s dark and a little haunting, but the truth nonetheless.

“Why don’t we call it a day? We’ve been at it for hours, and Mercie wanted to show me some books Linhardt gave her from the library. They have these instructions called _recipes,_ and we wanna see if we can find some stuff around that could substitute whatever flour is. Wanna join us?”

“No, but have fun.”

Annette gives Felix a small pat on his back before skipping out the doors of the training grounds, humming to the tune of the song about swamp beasties.

Felix stares at his legs for several minutes, running a finger along the spiraled edges where the black meets the white. He brings his hand to his chipped shoulder, rubbing his thumb on the jagged edges. He looks around the floor, and Sylvains walks towards him and offers the missing piece with a tentative stretch of his hand.

“Looking for this?”

Felix’s expression is unreadable, not quite angry or confused or uncertain, just blank. He looks up at Sylvain, searching for _something_ Sylvain isn’t sure he can give him. Felix carefully takes the piece.

“Thanks.”

“Of course.”

A silence falls between the two, something thick and heavy enveloping the air around them. Sylvain thinks he might crack under the pressure, and so he offers to relieve them both. 

“Wanna spar?”

“You just gave me back a chunk of my shoulder, which needs to be reapplied, and you’re asking me to spar?”

“That’s never stopped you before.”

“How would you—” Felix stops short, looking down towards his legs. He grasps the handle of his katana tighter. “I guess you would know.”

“Felix, we don’t have to.”

“Shut up and pick up your lance. That’s what you use, right? Dimitri told me.”

Sylvain can’t help but let out a little laugh at the competitive stubbornness still prickling Felix’s edges. At least he still has that. “Alright, alright. Don’t get so huffy.”

Sylvain grabs his lance hanging from the weapons rack. He stands a few feet away from Felix, both making sure they have the best grip on their blades before they begin to circle each other. And although Sylvain knows Felix doesn’t recognize him, Sylvain recognizes that cutthroat glow gleaming fierce and bright, as if every instance of a sunset was a menacing threat of nightfall. Sylvain wants to drown in the golden warning.

Felix moves first, starting off in an impossibly fast sprint to Sylvain’s right, who barely has time to deflect the upswing of Felix’s blade. Felix recovers quickly and unleashes blow after blow in swift succession. Sylvain struggles to block each one, his old partner as fast and ferocious as ever.

There’s a brief moment where Felix skids on his feet, and Sylvain takes the opportunity to swing his lance in an attempt to uproot him from his knees. But Felix’s newfound speed allows him to jump over the lance in time, and soon Felix is able to step on the hilt and shove it down from Sylvain’s grip, the blade at the katana pointed at the throat of a diamond.

“That was pathetic.”

Sylvain gingerly nudges the blade away with a finger and chuckles. “Wanna go again?”

“Fine.”

This time, Sylvain adjusts to Felix’s speed, finally able to do more than just block and actually swing his lance, just barely missing Felix by centimeters. But even so, after a few minutes of the sound of metal singing in the air, Felix lands a kick behind Sylvain’s knee and knocks him on his back.

Sylvain just grins. “Again?”

“You must really like to lose,” Felix huffs. He walks towards his starting position before abruptly stopping in his tracks. “Don’t look at me like that.”

Sylvain quirks a brow. “Like what?”

“Like...like you know me.”

“But I do know you.”

“No, you don’t. Stop talking and get in position.”

Sylvain can feel the hollowness of his chest widen as Felix’s tone, so resolute and so _final_ , carves through the crevices like a serrated knife. He clenches his jaw in an effort to save face and gives Felix a large smile.

“Anything you want.”

They trade blows once more, the odds more even as they both get used to each other again. It’s more of a dance this time around, and they fall into a routine just like they used to, each side step and blade swing calculated and measured in a way that perfectly challenges the other. There’s a moment where their weapons clash and they’re shoving against each other as hard as they can, their foreheads inches apart.

Sylvain grins. “Wanna make a wager?”

“Didn’t I ask you to stop talking?”

“Come on, you’ve won every single spar. Don’t tell me you’re afraid you’ll lose now.”

Felix’s glare is unyielding and molten, resolve and perseverance coalescing into amber will. “Not a chance. Fine, name your terms.”

Sylvain knows he’s won. “If I win, you have to spend time with me for the rest of the day.”

Felix rolls his eyes. “And if I win?”

“I’ll leave you alone for good.”

Felix mulls over that, the gears turning as the finality of Sylvain’s offer settles at his crown.

“Alright, deal.”

They break away from each other, giving themselves plenty of room to regroup. Felix lunges forward again, but Sylvain is more than ready this time. He times Felix’s feint _just right_ and shoves the end of his lance right where Felix’s footfall lands. He trips over the hilt and falls to the floor, a scowl following the _oof_ that huffs out of him.

Sylvain offers an extended hand. Felix just frowns and stares at it warrily.

“Come on, I’m not so bad.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“You’re not one to break a promise, though, are you?”

Felix sighs before taking Sylvain’s hand and pulls himself to his feet. “No, I’m not.”

Sylvain gives him a sad smile. “I know.”

Felix grabs the lance along with his katana and sets them back against the wall. “So, what do you want to do? Hopefully nothing wasteful.”

Sylvain’s voice is cheery and hopeful. “I was thinking of taking a stroll along the Beach.”

Something glistens over the amber of Felix’s eyes, but Sylvain doesn’t really know what to make of it.

“Okay,” he says before pocketing the piece of his shoulder and following Sylvain out the doors.

Their trek to the Beach is draped in silence, Felix all crossed arms while Sylvain holds his hands behind his head. The sky is impossibly blue again, and the sun hangs bright and mocking right in the middle. Sylvain wants to cut it out of the sky.

They reach the border of the coast, the salt spray kissing the planes of their face as the waves crest and crash onto the shore in a foamy frenzy. It’s especially windy, and Sylvain looks away from the ocean to catch a small zephyr curling around inky blue strands.

“How are your new legs?” Sylvain tries.

Felix doesn’t look at him. “They’re fine, I guess. I’m still getting used to them, but I think I’ve almost got the hang of it.”

“I knew you would, you’re good at that, adapting to anything. It’s so instinctual for you,” Sylvain can see the furrow of Felix’s brows unfurl just a bit. “Does the agate make you faster?”

“I think so. It’s harder than my original body, but a little more hollow. The difference isn’t too stark, though.”

“That’s good.”

They stare at the open sea for a while, watching the waves ebbing and flowing in tandem with every gust of wind. Sylvain wonders what the waves will be like in the evening with the push and pull of the moon, a power the sun could never hold. He thinks he might ask Felix to meet him here again if things go well for him now. 

“Do you wanna try swimming?”

Felix finally looks at Sylvain with a muted expression, and if Sylvain squints, he can hope the gentle glimmer refracting the sunbeams off the surface of his gaze is something like recollection.

“Sure,” he answers. Sylvain outstretches his hand, resists the urge to simply grab Felix’s and lace their fingers, but he knows better, knows to give Felix a way out. Felix stares at it for a moment before brushing right past him towards the crashing waves.

Walking into the ocean is always a strange feeling. Books often describe the sea as something cold and frigid upon contact, but of course the gems feel none of that. Sylvain still finds it a little hard to believe he can place a feeling like warmth in his chest, but nonetheless, he still quite likes the feel of the water whirling around his ankles, likes the feeling of sinking deeper and deeper into something that could possibly swallow him whole.

He watches Felix wade into the depths, the daylight scattered along the ocean surface reflecting onto Felix. Sylvain resists another urge to reach out and touch him. 

They walk until their feet barely kiss the sand beneath them, the waves becoming heavier and larger the deeper they tread. Sylvain raises a brow and couples it with a grin as Felix struggles to keep the water just at the shoulders. Felix just scowls and turns away. 

“Ready?”

“Of course, I’ve done this hundreds of times without you.” Sylvain tries not to wince at that.

They sink below the surface, Sylvain briefly taking in the desert sage hue of the depths. The water is clear and it’s wondrous as he catches a glimpse of Felix bending his knees against the ground before they both propel towards the cresting waves.

 _It’s just like old times_ Sylvain thinks as they push and pull against the ebb and flow, a synchronized sequence of movements that Sylvain knows even Felix can’t forget. He can’t help but grin from ear to ear, can’t help the thunderous joy rippling through his chest as they swim through one wave, then over another, then under the next and then over again. Of course, Felix is a few meters ahead, always a few meters ahead, and Sylvain quietly thanks the universe for keeping Felix the same, even if he doesn’t remember him.

They swim and swim until the sun begins to inch closer to the ocean horizon. They wade for a bit before Sylvain gestures towards the coast. Felix simply nods and swims ahead.

When the water is hip-level, Sylvain calls out, “Hey, Felix.”

Felix turns, annoyed and impatient, surely itching to prepare for his bout of nightly training. Sylvain wants to trace a finger along the crevice of his frown.

“Can I show you something?”

“No, let’s go.”

Sylvain gives him the silliest pout he can muster. “Please? I promise it’s not the worst thing in the world.”

Felix crosses his arms and rolls his eyes, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips. But he relents and walks towards Sylvain.

“Make it quick.”

“You’ve always had such a way with words, I’m glad that hasn’t changed.”

Felix says nothing as he follows Sylvain, who dives into the ocean and swims until he’s hit the floor, leaving several feet of sea between him and the surface. Felix dives in moments later, a look of confusion spreading across his face as he watches Sylvain lie down in the sand. He joins him anyway, sitting up and looking down at him at first before acquiescing to the wriggle of Sylvain’s eyebrows and lying down. 

Sylvain points to the surface. “Take a gander at that.”

Felix follows his fingers and looks up at the view. Sylvain wants to join him, wants to stare at one of his favorite phenomenons, but he can’t help himself as he watches Felix’s expression soften into something peaceful. 

The glittering muted tones of the sun, all round and bulbous and iridescent undulate onto the planes of Felix’s face, his body, his eyes. It’s a wonder of the world to Sylvain, pure unmitigated loveliness made possible by the beauty of nature and of Felix.

It’s quiet as they silently stare, they’re only accompanied by the flitter of a fish and the hollow sounds that come with the ocean.

“What do you think? Does it jog any memories?” Sylvain knows he’s made a misstep as that peaceful expression morphs into almost aggression. Felix doesn’t bite back, though, like Sylvain expects. He just turns to look at him, little hints of sorrow accompanying the rainbows glimmering on his surface.

“No, it doesn’t.”

“It was worth a shot, I guess.” Another sad smile crosses Sylvain’s face before he sits up and swims towards the open air. Felix follows shortly after. 

Sylvain stares at the droplets of water pitter pattering on the sand as they walk along the Beach, watches the little dots darken on the soft ground. Felix is walking a little ways ahead towards the School before he stops in his tracks. Sylvain almost runs into him.

“Listen,” Felix starts, balling his hands into loose fists before he takes a deep breath and turns to meet Sylvain’s hopeful gaze. “I can’t promise I’ll remember any of the time we’ve spent together because it’s not possible, Linhardt said as much when I woke up the second time.”

“Felix, it’s okay.”

“Let me finish.” Felix frowns but wills himself to relax. “But I’ve heard stories, so many of them. It’s been really aggravating to be honest. I won’t remember a thing, so wipe that expectation from your mind and stop trying to jog my memory. It’s useless.”

“Sure, Fe.”

If Felix wants to say something about the nickname, he doesn’t. “However,” Sylvain didn’t realize he was bowing his head a little when he perked up at Felix’s words. “It would be really unfair of me to ignore you completely.” Felix looks towards the setting sun, the day making way for the night as the red and orange and violet hues sink into the sea. Felix looks almost sad, and Sylvain wants nothing more than to brush his thumb along his cheek. “I can’t be the Felix or Fe or partner you had before we lost that day. He’s gone, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to live up to your expectations.”

“That’s not true!”

“Do you ever let people talk?” Felix huffs before continuing. “But if what the others are saying is true, then we make a pretty good team. I don’t want that to go to waste. Besides, if I stuck by your side for a millenia even after Ingrid, then you can’t be so bad.”

“So what are you saying?” Sylvain doesn’t have time to register the shake in his voice.

“I’m saying,” a pause as Felix looks down at his legs and crosses his arms, “I’m willing to be your partner still. If you’ll have me.”

“Of course I’ll have you.” He doesn’t even hesitate.

“Good,” Felix uncrosses his arms and marches towards the School, and while Sylvain knows he’ll never remember him, he grins nonetheless, jogging to catch up to his partner and start some playful idle chatter. 

***

They’re running along the High Fields again, their first patrol together since the day they lost. They’ve been training together for weeks, Felix whipping Sylvain into sharper shape, Sylvain giving Felix a run for his money as he finally adjusts to his new legs.

Sylvain has to run much faster now to keep up with Felix, who would never slow down even if he did remember Sylvain, but it doesn’t matter. Sylvain is always happy to trail a little behind, to admire those dark azure strands whipping along an angled jaw.

The cluster appears only an hour after they began their patrol. The darkness ripping through the sky gives Sylvain a little more apprehension than it used to, but he continues anyway because he refuses to let that day repeat itself. He grasps his lance tighter.

The Lunarians begin their usual routine, all cherry blossoms and loud instruments and spears and notched bows. None of the weapons are glittering anything familiar, and Sylvain lets out a sigh of relief.

Felix jumps into the air quickly, catching arrows on his blade and whipping them back at the cluster.

“Hey, don’t be too reckless. Remember what happened last time?”

Felix’s glare is all venom. “Obviously not. I know what I’m doing. Just cover me.”

Right.

Felix is in the air again, deflecting arrow after arrow, slashing through the air with practiced precision. Sylvain is right behind him, deflecting any strays that may catch Felix by surprise. A few spears land, but they’re plain and regular and not Caspar, so they barely scratch the red surface.

The Lunarians are seemingly out of weapons, and Felix and Sylvain find themselves on the ground, preparing for their final strike.

“I’m guessing I usually deal the final blow.” It’s not a question.

“Of course you do," Sylvain’s voice is a little sing-song, “you’re faster after all.”

Felix almost smirks. “Damn right I am.” Sylvain revels in the familiar banter and almost laughs as Felix jumps towards the Lunarians again.

As always, Sylvain commits this part to memory. The way the afternoon glory bathes Felix in light, and the new addition of black spiraled legs add another element of midnight. Sylvain is left speechless.

Felix’s brows furrow before he reaches the matriarch, his eyes gliding from one Lunarian to another, apprasinging the worth of their head pieces. Sylvain defects another waves of arrows, and Felix almost slashes through before a spear grazes his side, this time glittering pink and pretty and strong. 

Hilda. 

Felix and Sylvain land on the ground together, and Sylvain begins to feel a wave of panic almost drown him as he notices a little chunk of missing tanzanite on Felix’s side. Luckily, Felix was able to grab the piece before it was lost completely. He pockets it.

“What’s that look for?” He asks.

“I don’t want you to fall to pieces again. Why don’t you sit the rest of this out? I’ll take care of it.”

Felix gives him another murderous glare. “I know the risks of walking the High Fields, Sylvain. I’m sure you do, too. I wasn’t born yesterday. We can’t be deterred by losing a few pieces.”

“You didn’t lose a few pieces last time,” Sylvain retorts.

“You think I’m not aware of what I’ve lost? You didn’t just lose a partner, I lost half my damn body! The least you can do is trust me right now.” Felix’s voice is sharp and lethal.

“I do trust you, it’s the Lunarians I don’t trust.”

“Then you know we don’t have time for this.” Felix readies his sword. “They’re using Hilda, so even if you wanted to, it would be foolish for you to handle the rest on your own.”

Sylvain wants to argue, wants to fight to ensure that what remains of Felix stays where they are. But his words echoes in his head, _I lost half my damn body,_ and Sylvain relents.

“Fine.”

This time, the Lunarians don’t wait for them to attack first, and pure pink spinel spears fly through the air in a shimmering rosy rainfall. 

They deflect and dodge as much as they can, their blades barely enough to catch the force of another one of their fallen friends. Felix jumps impossibly high thanks to his new legs and readies his blade. 

Sylvain is suddenly overwhelmed with memories of Felix tearing through a matriarch only to be met with golden beryl arrows piercing through his body. He jumps without thinking, shoving Felix aside before swinging his own lance, but before his weapon cuts through, several pink spears find his arm and cleaves it cleanly. Sylvain simply grabs his lance with his left hand and begins swinging haphazardly, his feet finding the base of the cluster. 

“Sylvain!” Felix hurries into the air again, landing on the cluster next to him. He helps Sylvain to his feet and he’s furious.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Sylvain throws his severed arm towards the earth, away from the clutches of the Lunarians. “Protecting you.”

“I told you, I don’t need it. Just trust me! Did you not trust me before?”

Sylvain opens his mouth to say something, but pushes Felix out of the way of an incoming spear instead. He knows Felix was ready to deflect, but he can’t help himself. The spear lands right in the middle of his chest, red diamond fragments mingling with pink. As he falls towards the earth, he watches Felix strike down the matriarch, as clean and as flawless as ever.

When his body smacks into the ground, the last thing Sylvain sees is an angry frown coupled with a fiery amber gaze. 

***

Sylvain wakes up and expects to find Felix at his bedside, just like he used to whenever Sylvain endured too many hits. Instead he sees an empty chair and is greeted by a pair of sapphire.

“I know they say beauty sleep is important, at least that’s what some books say, but don’t you think you think you’ve had enough?”

Sylvain laughs a little before sitting up. “I think I’m gonna need a little more to keep up with you.”

Mercedes gently rubs his shoulders before her smile falters. “Felix wouldn’t tell me what happened. He ran in here with your pieces bundled in his arms but dropped them off without saying anything.”

“That’s fair.” Sylvain stands and stretches his limbs, careful not to move too quickly to keep Mercedes from worrying. She did just finish fixing him up after all.

“You don’t have to tell me,” she says calmly before moving towards the shelf of jars and grabbing one. “I imagine it was quite the battle since Felix brought back a little more.” Mercedes removes the lid, and Sylvain watches the last whispers of sunlight descending over the horizon glimmer over pink facets.

“He grabbed Hilda,” Sylvain whispers.

“Yes, he did. I was thinking it may have been hard to avoid since her pieces were mingled with yours, but he did bring back a few chunks.”

“Do you think it’s enough to bring her back?”

Mercedes’s smile is worn and sad. “No, it’s not.”

Silence permeates the air, slithers through the archways and refracts off the pink spinel. Hurried footsteps clack against the floor until Marianne rushes into the room making a beeline for Mercedes, who gingerly gives her the jar. Sylvain stares at the glittering pink brooch swept into a sea of sparkling aquamarine. 

Marianne opens the jar and takes out a small piece of spinel, glimmering a sharp shade of magenta, reflecting on the soft blue hues of Marianne’s glistening gaze. Sylvain thinks that’s the closest he’s seen any of the gems come to crying. She holds the shard as if the nighttime breeze will dissipate it into dust and scatter it towards the sea. Sylvain reaches out and brushes a comforting hand on her shoulder. Marianne jumps just the tiniest bit before giving him a very small half-smile.

“There’s that smile we love,” he says.

She blinks at him a few times, her eyes searching the planes of his face. She looks at the small piece of Hilda in her hand before cradling it close to her chest. Another silence, and Sylvain is left with thoughts of Hilda and Marianne sprinting under the smoldering sun along the High Fields, a serrated sword in a blur of pale blue and a large axe in a flash of pink, cutting down enemies while smiling the whole way through.

“Sylvain,” Marianne finally whispers.

“Hmm?” Sylvain looks at her confused before she continues, aquamarine stare hardening into something made of determination and understanding. Something much harder than diamonds.

“I know it must be difficult for you to not be remembered by Felix.” She places the shard back into the jar and gingerly closes the lid. Mercedes takes it from her and places it on the shelf next to the other lavishly decorated jars. “But he’s still here. Try to cherish him while you still have him around. Especially since you’re much less of a bother than me. You’re kind and charming, I’m sure he’ll come around.”

Sylvain’s eyebrows fly towards the tip of his forehead, and Marianne rewards him with another tiny smile before walking out of the room.

“She’s right you know.” Mercedes pats him on the back. “Will you tell me what happened?”

And so he tells her. 

  


It happens again the very next day. It’s supposed to be easy when it’s the two of them. 

Sylvain and Felix are sprinting through the fields again, eyes set on the cluster coalescing in the middle of the afternoon sky. They endure a few arrows and spears, but don’t take too much damage as they close the distance. Felix is ahead, is always ahead while Sylvain keeps him covered from behind. 

It happens so quickly Sylvain has trouble recalling the memories as he recounts the tale to Mercedes on her table. Felix was deflecting in the air when Sylvain heard a familiar ringing noise, not unlike a wet finger tracing a wine glass, not unlike that fateful day. 

Before Felix could deflect one final wave of weapons, Sylvain launches into the air and shoves him out of the way. He’s impaled with a hailstorm of arrows and a whirlwind of spears. He shatters when he hits the ground again.

“Felix was quiet when I was mending his arm,” Mercedes says carefully as she dusts away the residual powder on Sylvain’s face. He wrinkles his nose.

“He answered all my questions with small nods and grunts. It was almost a little funny,” and Sylvain laughs at that, eliciting a melodic chuckle from Mercedes herself. “But the whole time I was fixing him up, he couldn’t stop staring at you. Well, your pile I suppose.”

“I bet he looked angry. I’d be angry with me, too.”

Mercedes frowns and Sylvain hates it. “No, he didn’t look angry. He looked quite sad, actually. After I was finished with his arm, he lingered for a few moments just to look at you before he left.”

Sylvain shoots up in a sitting position. “Really?”

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up in regard to his memories, but not even he can deny that he certainly cares for you.”

Sylvain laughs again before running to find Felix and go swimming. 

  


It’s supposed to be easy, it was always easy.

So why isn’t this easy anymore?

It happens again and again and again. Sylvain pushes and kicks and shoves and smacks Felix out of the way, behind him, in front of him, anywhere Sylvain believes danger won’t find him. And every time, Felix becomes angrier and angrier. The amber hues darken and resemble resentful copper, and Sylvain’s feels frigid.

“Sylvain, you need to stop doing that!” Felix yells during a stroll along the Beach.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt. I’d rather it be me than you.” Sylvain picks up a shell before almost stepping on it. It spirals into a helix shape, the setting sun illuminating the white surface. It reminds Sylvain of opal. 

“I’m a better fighter than you are, and you don’t get to be some kind of twisted martyr for my sake.” Felix huffs and crosses his arms. “I don’t want that. I know it must feel like you’re talking to someone else, to someone colder and meaner but that doesn’t mean I want anything bad to happen to you.”

Sylvain stops in his tracks and Felix does the same. He offers him the shell, and Felix’s scowl dissipates into something soft before carefully taking it out of his hand.

“What do you want then, Fe?”

Felix stares at the shell before putting it into his pocket. He looks at Sylvain long and hard, searching and searching and searching. 

“Trust me like you used to, that’s all I want. I won’t break like that again, and maybe,” Felix pauses before looking away towards the cresting sea, the reds and oranges and violets of the horizon fading into the dark azure of the evening, “Maybe things will never go back to the way they were, but I think we can foster something powerful if you would just trust me, dammit.”

Sylvain feels hope erupt from every crevice of his body like magma spilling from a chamber.

“I’ll try my best. I promise.”

Felix’s soft expression hardens again. “I need you to do more than try.” Sylvain just stares at his legs, focusing on the black spirals as Felix marches away. 

  


It’s incredibly difficult when it’s the two of them.

It’s around the twentieth time before Felix has had enough. They find themselves on the base of a cluster, and this time Sylvain runs in front of Felix, gray spinel arrows crashing into him before they can collide with Felix. His torso slides off his legs, and as a few more arrows—a few more pieces of Ashe—pierce though his face, he hears Felix scream.

“ _Sylvain!_ ”  


Sylvain wakes to the wrath of sunset embedded below strands of tanzanite.

“What is wrong with you?” Felix seethes as he grips Sylvain by the shoulders.

“Felix, be careful. I just mended him.” Mercedes is on the verge of sorrow.

“Yeah, you did just mend him. And you keep having to mend him because he keeps throwing himself around like an idiot,” Felix says and his grip tightens. “I told you I didn’t want this. I asked you to stop!”

“And I said I would try! Besides, we’re both fine, right?”

Felix’s laugh is dark and hollow. “Yeah, we’re both fine, but I had to pry your pieces out of the Lunarians’ hands, Sylvain!”

Sylvain lets that sit in the air, lets it fall to his chest, lets it worm its way into his head like the little slugs Lysithea likes to study by the sea sometimes. 

“Felix I’m—”

“No.” Felix lets go of shoulders and stands up straight. He looks exhausted. “I’m done.”

“What?” Sylvain jumps off the table and reaches for Felix, who quickly moves out of the way.

“I said I’m done. I’m not doing this, I can’t do this. I don’t know how things really worked between us before I lost my legs, but it can’t have been this.” Felix’s brows unfurrow ever so slightly. “I’m not going through this again.”

“Felix,” Sylvain pleads. “I promise I’ll stop. I just...I don’t want to lose any more of you if I can help it. You have to understand.”

“And so do you!” Felix says, hands balled into fists. “I know you think you’re being charitable or preventable or whatever from throwing yourself like a martyr, but you’re being selfish. If you can’t respect me enough to trust me, then you and I need to find other partners.”

After Felix lost his legs, Sylvain finally understood the gravity of the sound of crashing vases and exploding glass, but whenever he breaks, when any of the gems break, it’s painless. He’s read about pain before, how it connects to things called nerves and how it can range from mild to excruciating. 

He wonders if the phantom shattering of his chest can compare. 

“Fe…”

“Stop calling me that! I’m done.” Felix gives him one final scowl before rushing out of the room.

***

The Professor pairs Felix with Annette after only a week. The difference is staggering, and Sylvain can’t help but feel a wave of grief and self-pity crash over him as he watches them spar; Annette unafraid of Felix’s skill, swinging her hammer around as if Felix himself is a Lunarian.

He decides he can’t watch anymore and runs out of the training room. 

He’s not sure where he’s going, he just allows his legs to step in front of the other, echoing off the walls until the grass muffles the footfalls. He runs and runs and runs until he’s several feet below the sea, legs crossed with his arms supporting him from behind. The reflections of the sun are cast over a pair of andalusite as Sylvain stares at the surface. The amalgamation of sea teals and shimmering sun rainbows just remind him of what he’s lost, and his face contorts into anger and frustration and guilt before he decides to stand and walk deeper into the sea. He reaches out towards the creatures flitting about, wonders how the sting of a jellyfish really feels.

He doesn’t get too far before familiar hands pull him back up to the surface. Sylvain doesn’t even turn to see who found him, who thought to look for him until he spots a worried Dorothea crossing her arms on the sand. She’s always been so beautiful, Sylvain thinks as the moonlight underscores diamond carob swirls curling past her shoulders.

“Care to explain what you were doing all the way out there?” She asks as Sylvain is hauled onto the shore by Petra, all gleaming ametrine and equally as beautiful as her partner.

“I was just swimming,” he says. They’re both unconvinced.

“We are knowing what you were doing,” Petra adds, all seriousness and concern. 

“Oh yeah?” Sylvain’s voice is sing-song again, but nothing like the cheery charisma of Annette’s Library songs. It’s taunting and self-deprecating and ugly. “What was I doing, then?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Dorothea grits. “Come on, we’re walking you back to the school. How long were you even out there for?”

“I don’t know, late morning?” Sylvain shrugs before getting on his feet.

“Sylvain,” she whispers. Petra laces their fingers together. Sylvain tries not to think about what he learned about pain.

“I’m fine. If we don’t get back soon, the Professor is gonna get mad.”

Dorothea and Petra follow him back, allowing him the space to frown and bite his lip and rub at his face without any judgement.

  


A few days later, Dimitri finds him sprawled in the sand staring directly at the sun. Sylvain doesn’t look over when he hears Dimitri sit down next to him. 

“How are you, Sylvain?”

Sylvain hates the concern that hovers over every syllable, that hovers over his name as Dimitri turns to chance a glance at him. Sylvain still doesn’t look at him.

“I’m fine, you’ve got nothing to worry about.” Sylvain finishes this with a dazzling smile. Dimitri just sighs.

“You know, it’s okay to admit when you’re not at one hundred percent capacity.”

Sylvain laughs. “One hundred percent capacity? What are we, machines or whatever those things are called in Bernie’s stories? I’m fine.”

“I hear that Felix and Annette—”

This time, Sylvain finally turns to Dimitri to level him with a cold glare coupled with a false smile. “Felix and Annette what?”

Dimitri rubs at his pearl eye. “I hear they’re doing quite well as partners. They’ve endured minimal injuries and seem to get along fairly well.”

Sylvain huffs a little and turns his gaze back towards the sun. It’s shimmering as bright as ever, casting a warm curtain over them. Sylvain desperately wishes he was looking at the moon.

“Then I’m happy for them. I’m glad to hear Felix is safe, that they’re both safe.” It’s not entirely a lie, Sylvain tells himself. He is happy Felix has remained here and safe and well, at least what’s left of him. He wishes it was him keeping his old partner safe, though. Why couldn’t it have been him? Why couldn’t he have remained Felix’s partner? Why couldn’t he have tried harder? Why couldn’t his body have been taken?

Sylvain stares at the sun until dark blotches cloud his vision. He’s reminded of Lunarian clusters and black-spiraled legs. He looks back towards Dimitri, who is staring at the eerily relaxed sea. 

“I’m glad you feel that way, even if you’re not being entirely honest,” Dimitri says. “You know he brought back some pieces of Ashe?” Sylvain allows his eyes to wander and they settle on the rings hanging onto Dimitri’s middle and pinky fingers; one set with gray spinel and the other set with sparkling peridot. The latter reminds Sylvain of limes. He looks up and meets Dimitri’s stare, and he focuses on the pearl. He’ll never forget the day Ashe was captured, Dimitri near inconsolable as Ashe was quite literally ripped from his grasp. He fought with untamed ferocity trying to reach for his partner again, but all he has to show for it is a pearl eye and some rings. 

“Mercedes told me.”

Dimitri fiddles with the jewelry before continuing. “I miss Ashe dearly. Not a day goes by that I don’t hear his voice flitting along with each coming gale, each echo off the walls of the school, each whistle of a piercing arrow.” Sylvain sits up and brings his knees to his chest. 

“I’m sorry, Dimitri,” he says. “Ashe was...good, and kind. I’m really sorry.” He starts to swirl his finger in the sand, traces around until he’s forming the helix shape of a shell. “I’m glad you and Marianne have found comfort in each other, at least.”

Dimitri’s smile is bright and stunning and rivals the blue gleam of his hemimorphite eye, rivals the shimmering diamond yellows caressing his forehead. “Yes, Marianne has been wonderful. If not for her, I don’t think I would have ever relaxed my violent lust for the head of each Lunarian matriarch.” Dimitri gives Sylvain one more powerful look. “But I do not love a single thing more than I love Ashe. I would give anything to have him here, no matter the circumstances.”

Sylvain winces a bit before asking, “You know what love is?”

“Of course. Believe it or not, I enjoy browsing the library during my free time. Ashe used to show me his favorite stories about these beings called knights and acts of chivalry.” Dimitri chuckles and it’s so light and airy, a stark contrast to the crackling fatigue that lives on the edge of his voice. “He even mentioned once that one of the knights in the stories reminded him of Felix.”

Sylvain’s smile is small and genuine this time. “Ashe would say something like that.”

“Yes, he would. He did.”

They stare out into the ocean until the moon is bright and heavy overhead. Sylvain wonders if Felix is still awake and gets up to go find him after Dimitri leaves.

And he is, he is fully awake and swinging his sword at one of the practice dummies in the training grounds, and Sylvain is absolutely mesmerized. He watches the blade catch the moonlight with every practiced swing, every graceful flourish. The dark blue hues of tanzanite stand out—even against the night time sky, white light refracting into magic with every upswing. 

Felix deals one final blow before sheathing his sword, his back turned towards Sylvain.

“What do you want?” he demands. Sylvain still detects a bit of anger, but there’s something else there he isn’t placing. 

“I just wanted to apologize.”

“Hmph.” Felix turns and brushes past Sylvain as he heads towards the doors. “A little late for that. I already have a new partner.”

“I know, I know.” Sylvain nervously grabs the back of his neck. “I shouldn’t have tried to force you to remember anything, and I shouldn’t have gotten in the way during all those battles. You’re right, it was selfish.”

Felix stops at the doors but doesn’t add anything. 

“I was wondering if we could start over?” Sylvain’s voice falters, but he stands resolute and hopeful.

“I don’t know,” Felix says, turning around and crossing his arms. “I can’t be who I was to you. I can’t be who you want me to be.”

“You’re already who I want you to be.” Felix drops his arms at that, and Sylvain feels relieved, finally making a little more progress. 

“I don’t know how to process that.”

“Then take your time,” Sylvain gently suggests, and then, “Maybe we’ll be partners again sooner than you think.”

Felix gives him a devastating scowl. “No, we won’t. I can’t leave Annette.” Felix turns to walk out the doors and pauses. “You haven’t learned a damn thing.”

***

“Sylvain,” the Professor finds him in the library with another gem in tow. “I’ve found a new partner for you. This is Claude.”

“Hey there.” Claude’s smile is crooked and a little sly, but something about it stirs a bag of mixed emotions within Sylvain. He can’t name them, not yet. 

Sylvain needs a moment before answering, needs a moment to properly assess his new partner. 

Claude was found along the coast just like the rest of the gems. Except he was found in a curious bronze box, which only opened once Claude awoke from the inside. He’s as much of a gem as the rest of the School, but there are a few oddities to consider.

Brown tourmaline frames his face in dark toffee curls, and his playful gaze is underscored by the matte malachite that could probably pierce through any guarded gaze by the sheer vibrancy of the green. What truly makes Claude unique though is not only is he made of gemstone, but he’s held together by bronze alloy. Sylvain traces the length of his arms and his legs with his stare, following the copper sheen which radiates under the warm glow of the library lamps. 

Claude is undeniably beautiful, a true spectacle to behold; another being made lovely under the sun, just like Sylvain. He still thinks he prefers the moon. 

“Hi Claude.” Sylvain musters the biggest smile he can before offering a hand. “Can’t wait to see what you’re made of.”

Claude doesn’t take the few steps required to return the handshake, and Sylvain thinks he may have a little bit of edge on him. But then Claude’s eyes are half-lidded and coupled with another playful smile, and he extends his arm much farther than any of the gems should be able to and grabs Sylvain’s hand. He realizes the bronze alloy allows him to extend his limbs far beyond every other gem’s capacity. Claude pretends to hide a giggle and Sylvain grits his teeth.

“I think you’ll find me more than capable.” Claude’s voice is smooth and velveteen and Sylvain still misses the sharp edges of another.

The Professor asks them to start training together immediately. Felix and Annette are on the training grounds when they arrive. Claude greets Annette with what Sylvain guesses is his real smile, and he finds himself looking at Felix, who pointedly isn’t looking at him. Sylvain snatches a lance from the rack before turning towards Claude.

“I don’t know what you fight with. Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you fight, and I’ve never seen you around the School.”

“The Professor felt they hadn’t found me a suitable partner until now.” Claude picks a bow off the rack and tugs on the string a bit. He grabs a quiver of arrows and slings it over his back. “And maybe we just hang out at different spots. Linhardt takes up a bunch of my time trying to research how all the bronze works. I keep telling him it’s just there to make me pretty, but he seems unconvinced.” Normally a joke like that would elicit a smile out of Sylvain, but he just shrugs and takes his place, readying his lance for whatever fighting style Claude may throw at him.

It turns out, Claude’s fighting style is methodical to put it lightly. Sylvain trips over every extended bronze limb Claude throws out, making every swing of his lance useless, disarming him time and time again with utter surprise. But not only does Claude have some sneaky tricks regarding his own body up his sleeve, he’s incredibly skilled with a bow, each arrow finding his target, embedding themselves into every little crevice Claude can find on Sylvain.

Sylvain notices Felix and Annette have stopped sparring to watch, and he feels slightly embarrassed. He simply needs to close the distance. He runs towards Claude as fast as he can, minding all of the bronze trying to trip him over. He ignores the arrows bouncing off his body, and he finally gets close enough to land a blow on Claude, knocking him on his back.

“Oh Sylvain, I’m utterly bewildered,” Claude says with fake astonishment. “You’ve beaten me one time out of a million, you are truly the superior partner.” Sylvain playfully scoffs before helping Claude back on his feet.

“At least I didn’t get knocked on my back,” he says.

“That’s definitely true and fair.” Claude smiles. “Good to know you figure things out quickly, like the fact I’m pretty useless if you’re running right at me. You’re sharp when you apply yourself.”

The doors of the training grounds open and close with a thunderous thud, and only Sylvain, Claude, and Annette remain.

“You think so?”

“I do. I think I can see why the Professor thought we’d make a good team.” Claude puts his bow and arrows back where they belong. “We’re both clever, or we at least can think pretty quickly on our feet. We’ll be okay.” He pats the top of Sylvain’s head with an extended arm and Sylvain gasps in surprise. He wonders if he’ll get used to that.

“Yeah, I hope so.”

***

The first time Claude and Sylvain patrol the High Plains, it doesn’t go exactly as planned. A cluster appears and this time it’s Sylvain who needs to take the lead while Claude covers from behind with his bow. It’s all routine at first, deflect the attacks towards the Lunarians until they stop to regroup, then go on the offensive and strike down the matriarch. 

Sylvain doesn’t even realize he’s essentially throwing himself at the Lunarians, at danger. Instead of going straight for the matriarch’s head, he lands on the base and begins to take out each enemy one by one. Claude covers him because he has to, his arrows piercing through every Lunarian Sylvain’s lance can’t reach. He has plenty of opportunities to take down the cluster, but instead he whirls his lance around, cutting down every enemy in his path.

“Hey Sylvain!” Claude calls from below. “I think you look really cool and all, but you should probably stop doing all that and take it down already.” That smooth velvet reaches Sylvain, and he finally jumps up and slashes through the matriarch and the cluster dissipates into nothing.

Claude meets Sylvain as he lands on the earth.

“So,” Claude starts, “I know you still took care of it, but what was that?”

Sylvain just smiles. “What was what? Like you said, I took care of it.”

“Hmm. You’re right. Just...be more careful.”

Sylvain waves his hand and walks towards the School. “Yeah, sure.”

  


It happens again, except this time Sylvain is sent to Mercedes so she can mend his left arm. After Sylvain lands on the cluster, he begins to carelessly swing his lance, cutting down anything resembling rose gold and cherry blossoms. Claude can only cover so much before Sylvain loses his arm, which finally prompts him into cutting the Lunarians down.

“I suppose old habits are hard to break.” Mercedes’s voice is strained. 

“What do you mean? I’m not even Felix’s partner anymore, so it’s not like I’m throwing myself for his sake. I’m just trying something new.” Sylvain half-heartedly shrugs.

“I think you know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t.” Sylvain gets up from the table and wipes up the residual powder so she doesn’t have to. He heads towards the door.

“Sylvain,” she whispers.

“Look, I’m fine Mercedes.” He tries to plaster on a genuine smile, but he knows it might as well be the sand on the beach. “I gotta go train with Claude now.” 

  


It happens again and again and again. Sylvain throws himself at every cluster and tries to dig his lance into every single Lunarian before taking the whole cluster out completely. 

One day as an arrow catches him on the shoulder, something snaps before he deals the final blow on a particular Lunarian. He drops his weapon completely and wraps his hands around the Lunarian’s neck. The sounds it makes are raspy and desperate, its nails trying to dig into Sylvain’s wrists as he squeezes harder and harder. As its eyes begin to roll behind its head, and its arms stop trying to claw at Sylvain, one of Claude’s arrows finds its head, and it dissipates before Sylvain can continue. He wishes he could strangle the matriarch before he swings his lance.

As the pair walks back, Claude breaks the silence. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you fight like you want to die.”

“Ha!” Sylvain’s grin is all feigned amusement and cheer. “That’s kinda funny. You and I both know we can’t die.”

“Right, but we can still get captured.” Claude grabs Sylvain’s shoulder and stops him in his tracks. “Look, I know the whole Felix thing has gotta be the worst punch in the gut, and you can give me that sad, stony brown-eyed glare all you want, but at this rate we’re both gonna get captured.”

“We haven’t yet,” Sylvain argues, but there’s no heat in his voice.

“No, we haven’t,” Claude affirms. “And frankly, I don’t want to, and I don’t want you to get captured either. So maybe cool it on the dramatics?”

Sylvain just _looks_ at Claude, looks at the bronze, the tourmaline, that piercing pair of malachite. He looks at Claude’s slightly furrowed brows and the painfully soft smile void of anything coy and sly.

“Claude, I—” Sylvain is interrupted by rippling in the sky, and his expression morphs into something horrified as two clusters emerge in all of their cherry blossom petal glory.

“Sylvain,” Claude is quick on the draw. “Don’t panic. We’ll each take one, and I’ll try my best to cover you once I’ve finished. It shouldn’t take me long.”

Sylvain can’t stop staring at the clusters, the grip on his lance is so tight he chips his palms with how hard his fingers are digging into them.

“Sylvain, I need you to let me know you heard me or something buddy.”

Sylvain shakes his head and tries not to let himself get distracted, not again.

“I hear you. These aren’t like the Lunarians we’ve faced so far, they may have some tricks hidden away when it comes to the matriarchs.”

“Gotcha. I guess they gotta keep us on our tippy toes somehow.”

A little part of Sylvain wants to be angry at Claude for trying to lighten the exact situation that placed him here in the first place. But he finds himself letting out a small little laugh, and Claude absolutely beams at him. 

“Yeah,” he says. “I guess they do.”

They go on the offensive, Sylvain jumping in the air to combat the incoming spears while Claude notches arrow after arrow. Sylvain grimaces with every spear clattering off his body, every arrow clinging off the blade of his lance. It doesn’t deter him, though, and soon he’s on the Lunarian cluster aiming straight for the matriarch this time.

As he launches himself to swipe at the head, several Lunarians ready their spears to take him out, but they’re interrupted by arrows lodging themselves in their chests. Claude wasn’t lying when he said he’d make quick work of the other cluster, and Sylvain smiles at his new partner’s curling smirk. 

With a clear opening to the matriarch, Sylvain lunges forward and swipes the face cleanly in half, but like last time, the cluster does not dissipate. Instead, those horrific holes expose themselves, and golden beryl arrows are emerging from their depths.

“Sylvain?” Claude cries out, but Sylvain can barely hear him, his eyes focused solely on the shimmering pointed ends of those golden arrows, a devastating reminder of his failure with Felix.

He drops his lance and just stares and stares, and he wonders if Felix felt this kind of accelerated panic when the sharp edges of Ingrid pierced through him. He drops to his knees and allows each incoming attack to take him apart, piece by diamond piece. Sylvain can barely hear Claude’s shouts, registering as faint whispers as he replays that day over and over again, replays the rainfall of tanzanite and amber pitter pattering all over his face. _It was just as sunny as it is now_ , Sylvain thinks. 

More of Claude’s arrows intercept the incoming attacks on Sylvain, but soon they cease. Sylvain is barely a torso at this point, but he feels a strange sensation envelop his chest. He looks down and see’s shimmering, bronze alloy wrapping itself around him. He looks towards the earth and spots Claude, his bow and quiver abandoned on the ground, with his arms outstretched and encircling Sylvain, attempting to pull him back to the earth.

“Claude, just run!” Sylvain can’t do this again.

“No can do, can’t have my very first partner slip away so easily. That would ruin my clever reputation.”

Sylvain just looks at him incredulously before he surprises himself. A very small part of him suddenly does not want to be captured, does not want to be whisked away in pathetic little pieces to be faceted and smithed into gaudy jewelry and disgusting weaponry. 

He gives Claude what he hopes is an appreciative smile, but without his bow, Claude is left defenseless, and a golden arrow snipes through his neck in tandem with a spear. Sylvain screams as he watches Claude’s head shatter on the grass.

Sylvain can’t handle this, he can’t, but he tries. He tries to crawl off the cluster towards Claude as the bronze alloy falls away into glossy, limp strands. An arm is pierced by a blue spear, the other with several golden arrows, and Sylvain just cries out and desperately tries to wriggle out of the Lunarians’ grasp. He turns to face them and closes his eyes. He can’t remember if Felix closed his.

“Sylvain!” A familiar voice rips through the despair clouding his head, like a beautiful, rapturous birdsong. Sylvain whips his head to see Dorothea and Petra, rapier and sword in hand, jumping up to bring him back.

“You are not to be worrying anymore, we are here,” Petra says as she easily rips through three Lunarians. Felix always said if anyone could rival him with a blade, it was Petra, and this is how Sylvain knows he and Claude will be okay.

“Sylvain,” Dorothea whispers as she kneels down and cradles his head. He leans into the touch.

“Give it to me straight Thea, how bad do I look?”

“Unbelievable,” she grits, but her eyes are swimming with sparkling relief. “You’ve looked worse.”

“Still handsome, then?” Dorothea gives him the smallest little laugh before an arrow punctures him right through the forehead.

***

When Sylvain awakes, it’s to a dark, deep curtain of endless emerald. 

“Finally, I finished fixing you up about an hour ago.” Linhardt motions for Sylvain to stand and test his limbs, but all he does is sit up on the table.

“Is Claude—”

“He’s perfectly fine,” Linhardt interrupts. He impatiently gestures at Sylvain again, and this time he does get up and stretch. “Mercedes insisted on putting him back together. Something about being afraid I would go too far in my examination. Absurd, really.”

“I mean, can you really blame her?”

Linhardt half-smiles. “No, I suppose I can’t.”

It’s silent for a few moments as Sylvain finishes stretching. Linhardt busies himself by putting away his materials, but stops abruptly and levels with Sylvain.

“I’ve been hearing about your patrols. How reckless you’ve been. It’s incredibly exhausting to hear about you know.”

Sylvain shrugs. “Then don’t worry about it. I’m fine, you and Mercie have been patching me up pretty well.”

“Mercedes and I will have a terribly hard time trying to patch you up if you land on the moon.”

“I figured if and when I eventually do get captured, you of all gems would probably be relieved. Less things to fix means more time to do nothing and nap under the sun.” Sylvain thinks he sees a flash of hurt scurry along those unusually matte eyes, but he finds it hard to care. He’s tired of having the same conversation. None of the gems have been able to grasp any semblance of understanding. 

“What a backwards notion to believe, completely void of any logic.” Sylvain has never heard Linhardt sound so upset, has never heard him sound like anything but crass, bored, and curious somehow all at once. 

“I don’t know what to tell you,” he says as he sits back on the table. Linhardt knits his brows at him, but seemingly gives up with a sigh and walks towards the shelves of jars.

“Then I won’t pry nor tell you how to fight.”

It’s quiet again, the silence accompanied by Linhardt’s shuffling and Sylvain swinging his legs off the edge of the table. Linhardt surprises Sylvain again by breaking the quiet. 

“Sylvain, do you reckon there are thunderstorms on the moon?” Linhardt’s voice carries the same wispy curiosity it always does, replacing his prior anger, except this time it’s trailed by something somber and doubtful and defeated. It’s small and quiet, but it’s there. If Sylvain hadn’t spent centuries mastering the art of peeling back prickly cadenced layers to unmask the truth behind Felix’s words, he may have missed it. But he didn’t. 

“I don’t know,” he answers carefully. “I would think you’d have uncovered that truth already based on how much time you spend in the Library.”

Linhardt hums in acknowledgement. “That’s certainly a reasonable presumption. Unfortunately, the Library is incredibly sparse of lunar literature.” He reaches upwards towards a shelf housing jars full of extra shards and replacement materials. This jar is different from the rest, though. It’s black and decorated with lovely golden swirls and curls. His back is turned to Sylvain, so he can’t see what Linahrdt pulls out with such a tender, tentative touch. Sylvain jumps off the exam table and heads towards the door.

“Some of the gems are terrified of thunderstorms,” Linhardt continues, forcing Sylvain to stop in his tracks. “I suppose it can’t be helped but frankly, it’s quite exhausting to deal with.”

“Are you afraid of thunderstorms, Lin?” There’s a very long pause before Sylvain decides to continue his exit, but before he passes through the threshold, he catches a glimpse of a small, sparkling shard of blue topaz carried by a lithe, careful hand. There’s a gentle half-smile taking root on Linhardt’s face, and for the first time in hundreds of years, Sylvain spots a glimmer in those kyanite eyes and he suddenly realizes why Linhardt loves to nap under impossibly blue skies. Sylvain hears his answer as he walks out of the room.

“No,” he quietly responds, “not me.” 

Sylvain doesn’t know how to feel when he walks down the hallway, but he makes a mental note to apologize to Linhardt later and perhaps even offer him some company the next time he finds him napping in the grass.

His thoughts are interrupted as he turns the corner and almost smacks right into Felix.

“Hey Fe—”

“You’re taking a walk with me. Now.”

“So pushy,” Sylvain playfully quips, but Felix is far from amused. “Where are we walking?”

“I don’t care.”

Sylvain breathes out a laugh. “You’re the one who offered.”

Felix rolls his eyes before angrily gripping Sylvain’s wrist and tugging him through the School and out the arched entrance. He’s leading him towards the Coast, Sylvain realizes, but a completely different part than where they used to swim.

Felix finally lets go of Sylvain’s wrist and slows his walk down.

“What are you doing?” He asks. 

“Uh, taking a walk with you?”

“Don’t be an idiot. What are you doing on your patrols? How many times have you landed yourself on that table?”

“Felix, I’ve already heard this hundreds of times, I don’t need to hear it again.” Sylvain rubs a tired hand on the back of his neck.

“So? Maybe if you stopped whatever reckless behavior you’ve been pulling, you wouldn’t have to hear it.”

“Why Felix, is that concern I hear?” Sylvain teases.

Felix scoffs and throws him a glare. “Of course I care,” he mumbles.

Sylvain almost trips into the sand. “Wait, seriously?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Sylvain hasn’t heard Felix’s voice drop to this level of softness since the day he lost his legs. It’s nice, he thinks. It feels like satin. “We were partners for a bit, even if we didn’t work out, and you’re not completely insufferable when you don’t try so hard to cover yourself up.”

“Felix, I—”

“Just stop throwing yourself at the Lunarians for my sake,” Felix says. He slips his hand into his pocket and takes out the shell Sylvain gave him. He stops walking and waits for the afternoon tide to retreat into the ocean before picking up a shell of his own. It’s a little longer with a pointed edge, spiraling like a winding staircase. He offers it up to Sylvain. “Promise me you’ll stop doing that.”

“I...I don’t know if I can,” Sylvain starts. “Every time I start fighting them, I’m reminded of what happened and it gets harder to forgive myself for it. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to.”

Felix huffs before grabbing Sylvain’s hand and placing the shell in his palm. He gently curls Sylvain’s fingers around it before he lets go. “Well, is it enough if I say I forgive you?”

A small amount of warmth begins to bloom in Sylvain’s chest, like the beginnings of crackling hearth. He offers Felix one of his best smiles and he feels like he could skip for a thousand years when Felix gives him one of his own.

“I promise, and I mean it this time.”

“Good,” is all Felix says and he continues his march along the coast. “Do you want to keep walking?”

“With you? Always.”

They walk along the Beach, chatting about Claude and Annette and all the other gems and happenings around the School until they walk past a few rocky cliffs and spot an all too familiar dark splotch in the sky.

“There is no way...that’s the fourth one today,” Sylvain whispers. “We don’t have our weapons.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much,” Felix supplies. “Look at the part of the Beach we’re on.”

Sylvain takes in his surroundings and notices the looming rock formations reaching up towards the sky scattered along the sand. This is this place where all the gems are born, each body emerging from the tall, rocky cliffs, and there are two diamond class gems in charge of keeping this part of their home safe.

Sylvain and Felix watch them launch themselves off the top of a cliff--bortz diamond swinging a sword in a black blur, and pure diamond heaving an axe in a glimmer of rainbows.

“I forgot about Hubert and Edelgard,” Sylvain laughs. 

It only takes the diamonds a few moments to take out the cluster. As one of the oldest pairs among the gems, they’re exceptionally skilled and particularly ruthless. Sylvain swears he can see the barest hint of amusement quirk the corner of Edelgard’s lips as she slices through the matriarch with a heavy swing.

As they walk towards the diamond duo, Hubert gives them an uninviting expression. Sylvain wants to laugh at his scowl, it doesn’t hold a candle to Felix’s.

“What kind of fool leaves the School without any weaponry?”

“Hubert, there’s no reason to be so rude,” Edelgard chastises. She turns to face Sylvain and Felix and sighs. “He is right, though. What are the two of you doing all the way out here?”

“We were just looking for the prettiest diamond on the Beach,” Sylvain quips. A collective groan whirls along with the billowing sea breeze.

“I’m surprised Felix has humored your distasteful attitude even after losing his memories of you.”

“Hubert!” Edelgard throws him a menacing glare and his brows unfurl.

“My apologies.” Sylvain knows he doesn’t mean it.

“It’s no worries,” he says.

“I wouldn’t say he’s distasteful,” Felix adds, and Sylvain could hug him. “He’s just a little annoying is all.”

Edelgard tries to hide her smile with her hand while Hubert just smirks outright.

“I can take being branded as a little annoying if it means you’ll defend my honor.” Felix just crosses his arms and huffs a strand of tanzanite out of his face.

Edelgard ties her long strands of pure diamond in a ponytail. “Well, Hubert and I have taken care of that cluster, and it wouldn’t be wise to stay here too long. Would the two of you like to join us for—” Her question is interrupted by a loud smack, not unlike a sturdy shard of glass falling onto carpet.

The group looks towards one of the rocky cliffs, and glimmering in the tide-beaten sand is a large heap of a gemstone glittering as red as vermillion under the setting sun. It has two legs but only one arm. It attempts to stand on its own legs after crawling for a bit, but soon it stays motionless on the ground. Sylvain sees Felix and Edelgard frown while Hubert lights up with delight.

They rush over to the ill-formed gemstone and try to get it to animate to no avail.

“Well Hubert,” Edelgard remarks, “it looks like you’ll be able to bring this one to Linhardt and see if it’s compatible.” Edelgard nudges it with the toe of her boot. “It looks like ruby.”

“Yes,” Hubert breathes and it’s the first time Sylvain has seen a genuine smile curl on his face. He’s not sure if it suits him. “Would you mind helping me carry it back to the School?”

“I don’t have anything else to do.” Felix walks over and grabs one end of the ruby while Hubert holds onto the other.

It takes them longer than usual to return to their home, but luckily Linhardt is still awake and helps them set the ruby on the table.

“Well?” Hubert asks hopefully.

Linhardt takes his time examining the half-body. He lifts the arm, the legs, tilts the unfinished head from side to side. After a drawn out yawn, Linhardt finally answers.

“Yes, I think it’ll be compatible with him, but I can’t determine how long he’ll last this time, if he lasts at all.”

“That’s quite all right,” Hubert says. “I’ll take any of the moments I can.”

Edelgard places a hand on his shoulder and smiles. “If you don’t mind, I’ll be excusing myself. Bernadetta wanted to show me a book she found in the library.”

“Of course, Lady Edelgard.”

“You don’t have to call me that, you know.”

“I...know.” says Hubert before she exits through the threshold.

“So you’re still trying to find pieces for Ferdinand, huh?” Sylvain assumed Hubert gave up his quest to find pieces that would allow Ferdinand to walk around for more than a few minutes.

Ferdinand—padparadscha—was born with large holes gaping in his torso, and while he’s able to animate for extended periods of time, the holes need to be filled with a compatible gemstone. Edelgard and Hubert have taken over that section of the Beach in order to scout for pieces. 

“Of course I am,” Hubert spits. “I would never give up on him so easily.” Sylvain looks at Felix’s legs. 

“I get it,” Sylvain says remorsefully. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.”

Hubert’s expression softens. “It’s alright. I...sometimes I still have a hard time remembering our time as partners.” Sylvain’s jaw almost drops to the floor, Hubert’s honesty and sincerity a complete and utter foreign concept to him. 

Felix has been quiet the whole time and is pointedly looking towards the floor. Sylvain almost asks him what’s wrong, but he’s too late and Felix is already walking out the door. 

“I wonder what upset him?” Linhardt asks. “Oh well, seems like too much effort.”

Footsteps echo off the hallway, and Claude pokes his head into the room.

“Oh perfect, just the bundle of gems I was looking for. Are you all up for a few games of chess?”

“Nope.” Linhardt slowly walks out of the room. “Goodbye.”

Sylvain and Hubert look at each before looking at Claude. Sylvain just shrugs and gives them both a smile.

“Come on Hubert, it’ll be fun. And I know you and I could use some decent competition.”

Hubert lets out a defeated sigh. “I suppose.”

***

The first few matches go by relatively quietly save for the occasional tap and slide of the chess pieces being moved across the board. Sylvain has played against Hubert enough to keep things fairly even, but the both of them have yet to win against Claude, as clever and methodical as ever.

“And that’s checkmate,” he says as he reassembles the pieces to their starting positions.

“Damn, I really thought I had you there.” Sylvain gets up to switch seats with Hubert, loser has to sit the next one out, after all.

“You did have him for a brief moment,” Hubert says with mild annoyance, “but he pulled a trick from his sleeve at the last second.”

“And who knows if I have even more?” Claude narrows his eyes as he moves a pawn forward. 

Sylvain watches with his elbows propped on his knees and his chin resting on clasped hands. He can confidently predict where Hubert will move, but Claude is on a whole other plane of talent. He takes several of Hubert’s pieces in a matter of minutes.

“So, what’s the deal with Ferdie?” Claude asks, arranging the taken pieces in a neat little row along the edge of the board.

Hubert furrows his brows. “Ferdinand was born under unfortunate circumstances.” Sylvain finds himself surprised again at how much Hubert is willing to share. He stares further into the crease of those brows and decides Hubert must be exhausted. 

“Holes and all of that, yeah? How did he even stay animated while the two of you were partners?” Claude takes his bishop.

Hubert is able to retaliate by taking a rook in return. “Linhardt and Mercedes had a wide range of materials available at the time, including a storage of gemstones.” He patiently waits for Claude to make his move and steals another rook. “Alexandrite was the most compatible with Ferdinand, and he was able to last for a long time before he simply could not.”

“How long has it been since the last time you were able to speak with him?” Claude’s voice loses a little of its curiosity, replaced with a hint of sincerity.

“I spoke to him a few years ago when a few pieces of sapphire were able to revive him for a few minutes.” Hubert has lost most of his pieces by this point, and Claude is on the verge of victory. “As for spending more than a few minutes with him, it’s been almost six centuries.”

Sylvain can’t help himself. “Does he remember you every time?”

Claude achieves checkmate, and Hubert hesitates before answering, “Yes, he does.”

Silence drapes over them like a blanket, and right as Sylvain moves to switch seats, Hubert looks at him with a somber expression. “While I may not be able to fight alongside him any longer, he’s still my partner, and I will cherish every single moment I’m able to steal, even if one day he may not remember.” Hubert relinquishes his seat for Sylvain, but moves towards Claude’s door. He pauses before exiting and says, “I suggest you do the same.”

Sylvain just sits there slightly stunned while Claude resets the board.

“Are you down for one more?”

Sylvain regains his composure quickly and smiles. “Yeah, I think I’ve got you figured out.”

Claude laughs and it sounds like music, almost like Annette and Dorothea. “Whatever you gotta tell yourself.”

The first few moves are uneventful, just a back and forth of moving pawns. Sylvain wrinkles his nose before advancing on one of Claude’s rooks and taking it off the board.

“So, how has it been between you and Felix?” Claude takes a pawn with his knight.

“It’s...been better,” Sylvain says with his tongue sticking out in concentration. He steals a pawn.

“You don’t sound convinced.”

“I keep messing up. You’ve seen it first hand, how I—”

“Fight like you wanna die?” Claude takes Sylvain’s knight.

“I guess.”

“You know,” Claude moves his bishop, “I was born way after you guys were established as partners, and definitely way after the whole thing with dear old Ferdie, but Hilda and I were close.” Sylvain loses another pawn.

“Yeah, she was something special.”

Claude laughs and the melody vibrates off the stone walls. “She was impossibly lazy! Could give Linhardt a run for his research.”

Now Sylvain is laughing in tandem with Claude, and it’s the lightest he’s felt since Felix smiled at him after presenting him with a small shell. Sylvain feels the weight of it in his pocket.

“She was super lazy, wasn’t she?”

Claude twirls a strand of tourmaline around his finger. “It was weirdly endearing. I miss her.” Sylvain quirks a brow at the way Claude’s voice just barely falters.

The game is close and so they settle into a focused silence, both of them trying and succeeding and failing at predicting the other.

“I think maybe you should take Hubie’s advice, and perhaps even the advice of the others.” Claude pauses before moving his king.

Sylvain see’s the opening and launches a pawn to place the king in check. “Does Hubert know you call him that?”

“Not if you don’t snitch on me. I’d personally like to keep all the experimentation done on me limited to Linhardt.” Claude takes his time assessing the board before throwing his hands in the air. “You win, finally.”

“Told you I had you figured out.” Sylvain helps Claude put the board and pieces away before making his way towards the door.

“I know I’m not Felix,” Claude starts, forcing Sylvain to face him. “But I hope you’ll like having me around on the fields with you someday. Believe it or not, as cool as you look swinging your lance around the Lunarians, I do get nervous seeing you so reckless. I know it’s for Felix, but maybe you can cool it a bit? We’re partners, at least for now.”

“No, you’re not Felix,” Sylvain says. “And I don’t think I’ll ever feel like any gem could replace him, but you don’t have to worry about me being so reckless. I spoke to Felix about it. Well, he made me talk about it, but I don’t have any intention of being captured anymore.”

“Oh yeah? Are you saying you don’t mind us being partners?”

Sylvain shakes his head. “That last fight where I almost got us both dusted, it was the first time I tried to come back to the earth. I saw you in pieces on the ground and something just clicked. It only lasted a few seconds, but I wanted to come back. To you, and especially Felix, even if he can’t remember me. And I just...genuinely didn’t want to go.”

“Did you tell him that?” Claude asks.

Sylvain turns around to leave. “No, I didn’t.”

“Maybe you should.”

***

Sylvain wakes to a sharp knock at his door. He reaches out towards the other side of the bed and doesn’t wince at the emptiness. He gets up to answer and is faced with Hubert trying not to scowl. Sylvain almost laughs. 

“Good afternoon, Sylvain.”

“Hey there, did I screw up or something? Are you mad we’re not even in chess matches right now? I wouldn’t mind a few rounds.”

Hubert lets out a tired sigh. “No, that’s not it.” A pause. “Linhardt was able to revive Ferdinand. He asked me to recount the events he’s missed out while he’s been unconscious, and I may have mentioned your circumstance with Felix.” Hubert almost looks apologetic.

“Oh, that’s fine. I don’t mind.”

“Well, he’d like to speak with you,” Hubert says.

Sylvain’s eyes go wide. “He does? I don’t want to take any of his time away from you, though.”

“It should be alright if it’s quick. Linhardt predicts he’ll last the whole day.”

“Are you sure, Hubert?” And Hubert looks slightly pained before answering.

“Yes, I’m sure. It’s what he wants right now, and I don’t think I convince him otherwise.”

  


Sylvain walks along the Beach, waiting for Ferdinand to meet him by the rocky cliffs. It doesn’t take him long, and Sylvain see’s a tall gem with incredibly long padparadscha waves curling around his shoulders and hugging his back. The way he waves his arm in greeting sort of reminds Sylvain of Caspar, but it’s much more refined and poised, not unlike the way Ferdinand gracefully trots over to him. Sylvain can’t help but stare at the ruby scattered along his torso, each one a different, warped shape. The sharp reds clash with the subdued hues. Ferdinand clasps a hand onto Sylvain’s shoulder and chuckles. 

“Sylvain! It’s been far too long,” he says in that boisterous tone of his, teetering on the edge of bombastic. Sylvain smiles at it.

“Yeah, it has been a while. A long while. It’s good to see you again.” Ferdinand absolutely beams at that. 

“I hope you’ve been keeping up with your equestrian literature. I recall you having been just as fascinated as I was, along with Marianne and Ingrid.” Ferdinand’s smile falters a bit. “Horses were rather majestic creatures, but alas, any moment I’m able to stay awake I’d rather use to engage with other gems, especially Hubert.” His smile reduces in size, but it radiates mirth and Sylvain wonders if Ferdinand knows what blushing is and how the phenomenon would allow his cheeks to rival the bright orange hues of his being. 

“Sorry to disappoint, but I think I’ve read all of the horse books in the Library. I tried to get Felix to read them, but he said he can’t stand the idea of horses. Whatever that means.”

“Still as stubborn as always that Felix.”

Sylvain sits down in the sand and takes the shell out of his pocket. “He sure is.”

Ferdinand joins him and stretches his arms towards the shifting sky; the afternoon blue fading away to give the bleeding dusk room to spread.

“How are you doing in regard to Felix? I hope you don’t mind me asking. Truthfully, I would not stop insisting that Hubert tell me the entire story.”

“It’s definitely a lot better than when he first got his new legs. He doesn’t seem to hate me.” Sylvain holds the shell in between his thumb and index finger and holds up to block the fading sun rays, his own private eclipse.

“I don’t think Felix even has the capability to dislike you. His attitude isn’t very becoming, but even I can tell after every one of my animations he has always cared deeply for you.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t know if he’ll care as much about me moving forward.” He pockets the shell and outstretches his legs, allowing the tide to wash over his ankles.

“I wouldn’t say that,” says Ferdinand, and he places a soft hand on Sylvain’s shoulder again.

“What do you think, then?” Sylvain hopes Ferdinand missed the slight crack in his voice.

There’s a long pause before Ferdinand answers. “You know, sometimes when I wake, it takes me a while to remember Hubert. I remember him every time, of course, but sometimes...sometimes I feel terrible for how hard he has to work to jog any sort of familiarity within me.”

“Really?”

“Yes, but you know what?” Ferdinand stands up and extends a hand to help Sylvain up as well. They both stare at the setting sun. “Even when it takes some time to remember my Hubert, there is always a small part of me reaching out for him, a strange warmth trying to find its way out to cling onto him.”

Sylvain just stares at him, hope coalescing into every red diamond crevice, every andalusite edge. “You’re not just saying that, are you?”

“Of course not, Sylvain.” Ferdinand begins to walk towards the School and Sylvain follows, noticing Ferdinand’s steps are not quite as graceful as before. “Perhaps something similar is happening to Felix. After all, can we truly believe we’re all just sparkling gem husks?”

Sylvain laughs. “I never thought I’d hear you say something like that.”

“Well, when you’ve spent most of your lifetime in a box, you gain a new perspective.” He slows down to a little too quickly, and Sylvain grabs his elbow to support him the rest of the way. 

“Do you really feel all that guilty about not being able to spend much of your life with Hubert?”

“Regretfully so,” Ferdinand says. “I also imagine Felix may carry some guilt along as well.”

“I…”

“Sylvain, you can’t possibly believe all your reckless behavior doesn’t at least scuff your dark little bundle of tanzanite. And of course there’s the business of not being able to remember you while you desperately wish he would.”

“I just,” Sylvain pauses to catch Ferdinand as he stumbles up the hill towards the School. He half carries him and sighs in relief when he realizes the building is only about a hundred feet away. “I didn’t think of that.”

Ferdinand pats his cheek. “I’m sure you didn’t. Just try to make new memories with him, the rest will follow, I think.”

By the time they reach the front archway where Hubert is waiting, Sylvain is practically dragging Ferdinand. He collapses into Hubert’s arms and smiles, outstretching a hand to cradle his cheek.

“I tried to hold on as long as possible so I could be graced with your handsome mug.”

“Ferdinand, you shouldn’t be collapsing now! Linhardt said you had the capacity to last a full day.” Devastation furrows Hubert’s eyebrows, and Ferdinand slowly unknits them with a trace of his finger.

“I promise I tried, I really did. And even though I’m fading now, just know that every moment I have with you always feels longer than the days I spend in that box.”

“Ferdinand…” Hubert’s voice shakes, and Sylvain looks away. 

“I’ll come back to you, Hubert. I always do.” Ferdinand’s eyes flutter close and his body goes limp, his finger slipping away from Hubert’s face. The cry of a crow echoes off the walls of the School. 

***

Sylvain thought about Ferdinand for weeks before finally approaching Felix and Annette with Claude alongside him for support.

“Hey you two, mind if Claude and I spar with you for a bit?”

“You want to actually train?” Felix asks in disbelief.

“Hey now, don’t go underestimating us,” Claude says. “We’re a pretty good team.”

“Come on, Felix! It’ll be fun.” Sylvain knows they’ve won a spar because Felix has never been able to deny Annette anything.

“Fine,” and if Sylvain squints hard enough, he can see the slight curl of a smile form on his face, and he feels the warmth of a crackling hearth in his chest again.

Both duos take their place on opposite sides of the grounds, Felix and Annette circling from opposite sides while Claude and Sylvain remain in place. Felix lunges first, sprinting full force at Sylvain while unsheathing his katana. Sylvain is ready for him, though, and soon the two of them are caught in a dance full of sword swipes and lance lunges. Felix outright smiles, and Sylvain follows suit. 

“Sylvain! I’m glad you guys are having a moment, but I could use some help.” Right. Sylvain and Claude work well with each other because they’re both able to cover where the other cannot. Sylvain always takes care of the close combat foes while Claude strikes down the ones from afar.

But right now, Annette is swinging her very large hammer a little too close for Claude’s comfort, and he’s unable to find the footing or the time to notch and arrow and shoot.

Sylvain breaks away from Felix and aims for Annette. Felix follows right behind, but an arrow catches the back of his hand and almost drops his katana. Claude gives him a glimmering smile and Felix just huffs.

It doesn’t take long for Sylvain to disarm Annette. She’s surprisingly strong and wields her hammer with fierce conviction, but her overthinking nature forces her to hesitate for just a moment as she tries to discern if Sylvain is pulling a feint or not. He decides to follow through, and her hammer flies out of her hands with an upswing from his lance. It lands in the middle of the grounds and is followed by the thump of Claude’s bow.

“Sorry Sylvain, your friend over here is really fast it would seem. You’re on your own now.”

Felix is wearing a victorious expression, and marigold flickers with joyous ferocity. Sylvain winks at him before lunging forward.

It’s a dance again, like it always was, like it might always be if Sylvain and Felix allow it. They trade blow after blow, all concentrated furrowed brows and unrelenting smiles with the occasional laugh. Soon they reach a stalemate, amber crashing into andalusite, Felix always crashing into Sylvain. They stand like that for a moment, and then both the lance and the sword fly out of their hands from the sheet momentum.

“So, a tie?” Claude asks.

“That seems fair,” Annette supplies.

“Hmph, you’re lucky I went easy on you.”

“If it helps you sleep at night, you can tell yourself that all you want.” Sylvain offers an extended hand and Felix shakes it without a single second of hesitation. 

Both pairs spar until the sun shifts across the sky from east to west, the morning and afternoon and the small beginnings of the evening filled with the clanging of weapons, proclamations of victory and wails of loss, along with the cackling of laughter.

“I’m spent,” Annette sighs as she puts her hammer up on the weapons rack. “I’m gonna go find Mercie and spend some time with her. See ya later!” She flits out the doors like a tangerine hummingbird.

“And I promised Linhardt he could take another look at me...again,” and he also sighs as he drags his feet out of the exit.

Sylvain and Felix stand in the middle of the grounds and a soft zephyr whirls around them, signalling the arrival of the moon.

“Wanna break some rules and stroll along the Beach? We haven’t walked around at night in a while?” Sylvain asks with his hands clasped behind his head.

“Sure,” and Felix’s voice sounds so soft and sincere that Sylvain’s knees almost buckle.

Whenever they made the decision to walk along the coast under the veil of the evening, Sylvain always loved to stare at the way the moonlight glowed on the surface of those tanzanite strands, rivaling the glimmering night sheen hovering over the surface of the sea. It’s not so different now.

“That was a really good sparring match,” Felix says.

“That’s high praise coming from you.”

“Yeah, well,” Felix fiddles with a strand of dark azure. “You deserve it.”

Sylvain desperately wants to reach out and take Felix’s hands, but he knows better. _You deserve it_ rings in his ears before he decides he should say something.

“That means a lot, Fe.”

“Did you always call me that?” Felix asks, but there’s no venom laced in his question, just genuine inquiry.

“I did. You always said you hated it, but after a few hundred years I finally got you to admit it was endearing.”

Felix scoffs. “Ridiculous,” he punctuates this with a smile.

They remain quiet for a long while, simply walking in step, digging their heels into the sand, a quiet equilibrium Sylvain sorely missed.

“I’ve been talking to Claude and some of the other gems,” Felix says. “I hear you’re not being reckless anymore.”

“I guess I just found a few reasons to be more careful.” He stops walking as he says this and Felix does the same. He feels slightly daring, so he tucks a thin strand of midnight blue behind Felix’s ears, who lets out the tiniest little gasp in response. Sylvain is all smiles. 

“Good,” is all Felix mumbles before speed-walking towards the School. Sylvain tracks the way Felix traces a small lump in his pocket, and Sylvain takes out his own shell and looks at it instead of the black spirals whirling around Felix’s legs.

***

Days and weeks and months and years pass, and things are better. Sylvain and Claude spar with Felix and Annette when they’re not patrolling the High Fields, and the duo has come up with an effective battle strategy that may even rival Edelgard and Hubert.

Sylvain and Felix have resumed their nightly strolls, and while Felix can’t remember what they’ve been through, he still humors Sylvain at the bottom of the ocean and nods when Sylvain waxes poetic about the sunlight and the moonlight filtering through all of the teals. Sylvain doesn’t tell him he’s noticed, not once.

Felix doesn’t remember a single thing when it comes to Sylvain prior to losing his legs, not one. But there’s the smallest ghost of familiarity with every passing smile, every swing of his katana, every lingering touch, and every tender conversation, and it’s enough for Sylvain. He may not be able to keep him the way he used to, but he’s still able to keep him. It’s enough.

***

Sylvain and Felix are lounging in the Library when Lysithea marches towards them in a small fury of moonstone and rose quartz.

“What’s the point of taking up space in the Library if you’re not even going to read anything?” She huffs.

“Aw, come on Lysithea. The chairs are comfy here.”

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter. I came here to ask you for a favor.”

“Oh yeah?” Sylvain asks. “What for?” Felix’s brow raises in curiosity.

“Bernadetta shared a book about these creatures called sharks, and according to the text, the Beach has just the right climate to allow them to thrive. I want to examine them so I can add them to the encyclopedia Linhardt and I are working on.”

“So you need a pair of gems to escort you to the beach in case of a Lunarian attack.”

“Yes Felix, exactly that. Will you two do it?”

Sylvain looks towards Felix and they both shrug in unison.

“Sure, we are uselessly taking up space in the Library,” says Sylvain. Lysithea rolls her eyes as they follow her out of the Library towards the coast.

They’re underwater for what seems like centuries, the trio walking this way and that, swimming alongside schools of fish and swarms of jellyfish in search of whatever shark is. After a while, Lysithea shakes her head in frustration and they all swim up towards the surface.

“I can’t believe we didn’t see a single shark,” she complains, dumping water out of her shoes before putting them back on.

“I’m sure we’ll see them someday, they can’t hide from us forever.” Sylvain catches Lysithea letting out a sigh of relief at his words, and he exchanges a little glance with Felix.

“I suppose you’re right, but it would have been monumental if—” Lysithea’s eyes widen impossibly so, reminiscent of large, pink plates, looking past Sylvain and Felix towards a fixed point in the sky.

The duo turns to see a dark rip in the sky, cherry blossoms and fanfare hovering in the air. Sylvain grips his lance tight while Felix unsheathes his sword.

“Sylvain,” Felix says firmly. “Don’t—”

“I won’t, I promise.”

“Good.” The both launch into the air, immediately on the offensive before the Lunarians can react. Felix takes down a few while Sylvain is able to sweep a good quarter of them with one sweep of his lance. It’s not long before they have to jump off the cluster and return to the earth, glittering pink spinel spears and gray spinel arrows now posing a very real threat. 

They take a minute to regroup and assess. All it takes is a nod shared between both of them, and Felix is sprinting full speed ahead while Sylvain tails close behind, relishing in the marvel of Felix running under a sunset. 

Felix jumps into the air and Sylvain is right behind him, deflecting every obstacle he can to give his old partner a clear path to the matriarch. Felix reaches it and slices, the face slowly sliding off and dissipating.

But the cluster isn’t disappearing, and as Felix falls back on his feet next to him, Sylvain braces himself for those golden arrows. No arrows fly out of the head, though. Instead, colossal jaws spring forth from the depths, and the teeth are all too familiar to Sylvain. Felix grabs his wrist and forces him to look at him.

“Felix, those are…” Lysithea whispers.

“Don’t you dare do anything stupid,” Felix grits at Sylvain.

Sylvain carefully wriggles out of Felix’s grasp. “I promised I wouldn’t! I trust you now, Felix. You gotta trust me, too.”

Felix lets that settle before answering. “Okay.”

They’re on the run again, this time Sylvain in the front while Felix covers from behind. Another jump in the air and they’re on the base of the cluster again. Felix takes out Lunarian after Lunarian as Sylvain jumps for the jaws. 

His grip on his lance is a vice, but it’s calculated, and he swipes at the tanzanite and amber teeth protruding from that ugly weapon. 

“Lysithea!” He calls as some of the pieces fall to the ground.

“I’ve got them, just keep going!”

Sylvain looks over his shoulder to check on Felix, who is still slashing through foes, taking care to grab the pink spears and gray arrows and flinging them towards Lysithea. 

Sylvain is able to force a few more chunks out of the jaws, but during his final lunge, a spear catches him in his lower back, and he falters enough to drop his lance.

The Lunarians waste no time and direct the jaws at Sylvain. They clamp down on him, and despite the difference in hardness, he’s immediately being crushed into pieces, a sparkling rainfall of tanzanite and red diamond dusting over Felix’s horrified face. 

“I tried,” Sylvain whispers. “I tried, I really did. I’m sorry, Felix.” The jaws clamp down even tighter, crushing him even further.

“ _Sylvain!_ ” is all he hears before his world fades to black.

***

When Sylvain wakes, the first thing he does is laugh, a cacophonous cackle that startles something to his left. He’s utterly dumbfounded, complete disbelief washing over him in waves. He stretches out his hands, his legs. He rolls his neck around and slides his fingers through strands of red diamond.

“I’m here in one piece,” he says, exasperated. 

“Yes you are,” and Sylvain turns to his right to see Mercedes smiling at him in a way that makes him want to believe in whatever deity the Library had the most books on.

“How?”

“After you were caught, Felix was able to keep the cluster there until help arrived. The both of you were lucky Dimitri and Dedue were close by.”

“Yeah,” Sylvain breathes, and then, “Is Felix okay?”

Mercedes’s smile grows impossibly wide. “He is, and he’s gone through a bit of a change. I hope you don’t think the bangs are too jarring.”

“Bangs?” Mercedes just giggles before pointing to his left, and Sylvain turns to find Felix staring at him.

“Fe…”

“You,” Felix lets out in a whisper of annoyance, “I can’t believe I almost lost you.” He furls his hands into the collar of Sylvain’s shirt. 

“I promised, didn’t I?” Sylvain’s gaze glides over the dark bangs that now hover over Felix’s forehead. His ponytail no longer trails over the length of spine and now lingers just above his neck in dark, wispy strands. His eyes keep trailing Felix until they land on his legs, only one black spiral hugging his right thigh, and the elation Sylvain feels almost knocks him unconscious.

“Felix, your...your legs! Your memories!”

Felix just nods, but he’s not quite meeting Sylvain’s eyes.

“What’s wrong, Fe?” 

“I...I got most of my memories back.” He hesitates and loosens the grip on Sylvain’s collar. “I remember all of those times under the water, our walks in the sand, our spars under the moon...our promise.” He lets go of Sylvain.

“Then what’s wrong?”

Felix just shakes his head. “I lost a piece while I fought for you, and I forgot the most important thing.” That explains the bangs and the shortened ponytail. “You’re not just red diamond and andalusite to me, you’re more.”

Sylvain cups his cheek and waits until Felix leans into his hand. “What did you forget?”

Felix looks up, and Sylvain wonders if tears would have spilled from the corners of those wonderfully golden eyes.

“I forgot your name.”

Sylvain lets out the gentlest laugh before cradling Felix’s face in both hands.

“That’s all?”

Felix scowls. “What do you mean that’s all?” His voice is almost a whimper. “How could I forget your name? How could I forget you? I’m so _so_ sorry.”

“Hey, hey,” Sylvain runs his thumb along the sharp edge of Felix’s cheek. “Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault, and you know what, I’m okay. You’re okay. We’re okay.”

Felix nods in his hands and then buries his face into the crook of Sylvain’s neck. “Okay...okay.” Sylvain wraps his arms around him before Felix whispers, “Please tell me your name.”

“It’s Sylvain,” he says as he gingerly pulls Felix even closer to him. Felix wraps his arms around his neck, and Sylvain can feel him smile against him.

“Sylvain,” he breathes. “That’s nice.”

Sylvain just hums and closes his eyes, allowing the warmth to envelop them both. He hears Mercedes quietly leave the room, her footsteps echoing off the halls.

***

**Author's Note:**

> Taking the opportunity to thank Kelp again for working so hard on those lovely images as well as Carson for being the most resilient beta reader. 
> 
> This fic was an incredibly large labor of love, so it means so much to me if you’ve read all the way through. 
> 
> I’m on [twitter](https://twitter.com/jenstarlol). RT this fic if you had a good time reading! I’d really appreciate it. Enjoy the rest of the Sylvix Big Bang goodies from the rest of the talented writers and artists!


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